Tying Up Loose Ends
by Okami-chan
Summary: PS4 Game Compliant. Spoilers abound. A series expanding on various scenes/ideas from the game with a heavy focus on the Spidey/Jane relationship. Eventually to lead into speculation for the next game. Ch. 3 Peter deals with what happens at the end of the game Pt. 4/4
1. You Can Always Stay At My Place

**Author's Notes:** Posted at the other archive last week and debated posting here. Written because I couldn't find any Spidey/Jane smut for the PS4 game over there. Debated posting here considering there's not a category for the PS4 game, but as you can see, decided to upload. Part one of the 'Tying Up Loose Ends' series, where I do exactly what the title implies. I see opportunity to expand on scenes at the end of the game.

Yes, the beginning is directly lifted from the ending of the game. Spoilers. It's a pattern for this series/getting in to the characters' heads. Yadayada.

Enjoy!

* * *

The door jangled above her head when Mary Jane walked in, filled to bursting with excitement. She'd already seen Pete browsing his new laptop through the window, and headed straight for him. He stood up, eyes brightening and closed the distance between them.

"So...?"

She smiled. "Hi," she said, extending her hand that he took without question. "Mary Jane Watson, associate editor."

Pete's face lit up and he shook her hand in his. "Congrats! I knew you could do it." His other hand flailed a little, as though uncertain where to rest.

She beamed, thanking him, and ignoring the awkward hand, and went to sit in the booth across from him. "What about you? Find a job yet?" She stole a delicious fry from the basket already on the table, knowing he would never object.

"Oh, no but uh..." he shut his laptop and slid it to the side, the excitement leeched out of his words.

The waitress passed by with a quick "I'll be right with you, honey," and Mary Jane almost missed what he said next.

"I was actually considering a career change."

A frown tugged at Mary Jane's lips. His little laugh worried her, almost as if he were laughing at himself. "Hm?"

"Yeah. I think I might want to become a chef."

Mary Jane choked on her fry, laughing. "I'm sorry. No, it's… you're a scientist. A good one."

Pete grimaced. "The last project I worked on I created a monster octopus that almost destroyed the city. So..." There was that self-deprecating laugh again.

"Yeah…." Her heart ached for all the pain she knew lay behind that laugh, and she looked for some other subject to take the pain out of his eyes. "I mean, you do make a hell of a chicken curry."

He chuckled, and she knew he remembered that delicious chicken curry he'd left in her kitchen. Along with the clothes on her floor. "I do." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes "Still working on my dumplings, though."

She laughed, glad to have taken some of that pain out of his face.

He fell silent though, and she took notice of the backpack sitting in the booth next to him.

"Going camping?"

He followed her gaze. "Oh..." he sat back and brushed it away. "My new place isn't going to be ready for about a week, so I'm going to be crashing with Miles for the next few nights."

"Oh," She hadn't even realized there was a 'new place.' She wondered why he'd never brought it up before, but Aunt May had always talked about that 'Parker Pride', and Mary Jane knew Pete too well to be entirely surprised. She didn't want to force him, but... "You know, you can always stay at my place..." The look on his face had her back pedaling a little, maybe she'd misread him? "I mean," she rubbed the table top, trying to push her uncertainty away in that single gesture, but she stopped before he noticed. "Only if you want to."

He jolted upright and started stammering. "No. I mean, yes! I mean, no I don't **not** want to, meaning I **do** want to… but only if you do."

She smiled, wondering how anyone could not see the similarities between this awkward man and the guy swinging around in spandex. She met his gaze and leaned forward, her consternation squeezing out of her with the words, "I never stopped wanting to."

And that put the first genuine smile on Peter's face she'd seen in the last three months. "Me neither."

Her heart melted, and what could she do, but put her hands on the table and lean toward him? Never breaking his gaze. He met her halfway, lips warm and soft. Gentle. Always gentle with her.

His hand slid across the table to cover one of hers and when they parted he didn't let go. "I guess… I should call Miles and let him know about the change of plans."

She smiled, rather than answer.

The waitress came back, polite smile on her face.

They ordered and ate, conversation minimal. Just two people enjoying one another's company. A chance, for her to admire his face, and that enviable thick head of hair. Their hands still touched across the table, just the light brush of fingertips. She flirted with him, and he stuttered back at her making her laugh again. It wouldn't take him long to get used to it again, she knew. For as often as he hesitated, he also gave a few good quips to her teases.

It didn't last long, as it never did. Especially when you dated Spider-man.

At least they finished lunch before he had to leave.

Quick kiss as he hurried out the door.

"See you tonight?" she murmured.

He paused, taking a gulp of air. And there, that elusive smile, for the second time in one day. "Definitely."

Then he dashed away, leaving her to gather the cash he'd dropped on the table: a soggy five, a few crumpled ones and a handful of coins. She paid, leaving a tip for the waitress and left the cafe with the styrofoam boxes of leftover in a bag.

She knew to look, so she saw the colorful figure that bounced between the rooftops. "Did he just woo-hoo?" she muttered, covering the grin that broke out on her face.

She headed back to the Daily Bugle's office, stashing her leftovers in the fridge. She plunged back into the story she'd been working on, an exposé on a rash of cat burglaries in the secured penthouses. She kept an eye on the phone, in case Pete needed help with anything during his own 'job'. Looking at the phone made her heart race, and mouth dry up like the sahara.

She couldn't believe she'd really done it. Invited him back into her life on a more permanent basis than 'good friends in passing.' She didn't regret it, not in t he least. She'd missed Peter, and she'd never found anyone quite like him. Aaron had been sweet, until he'd lost his temper two times too many. Keith had been a mistake, like dating Flash from school, nice bod, no brains, and no kind bone in his body. She didn't want to think about Paul or Sam… She shook her head and refocused her efforts on the article in front of her. She didn't need to go rooting around in her closet like that. She had skeletons and so did Pete.

What had Pete said that one time? "Not all baggage was bad..."L Maybe not between them. She wouldn't have missed him if all the time together had been sour. She supposed their break-up was her fault as much as his. But he'd been so overbearing. God. It still made her mad just thinking about it.

Mary Jane stopped that thought because he'd definitely gotten better about that protective streak. She grabbed her coffee breathed in the invigorating aroma before taking a mouthful of cold coffee and setting the cup down. "Ugh," she said as much to herself as at the coffee.

She finished the article with just as much focus, which is to say none at all. But she did finish it, at least. Then she had another on her desk to review and two more to follow until the end of her day.

Her apartment seemed quieter and darker than normal when she walked in, feet aching from the long walk and standing on the subway. She flicked on lights, tossing her shoes and coat into her entry closet on the way by. The leftovers had disappeared earlier in the day, and MJ had instead two boxes of Thai.

She had gotten word from Pete that he'd be by in a bit. She'd let him know that she would grab dinner on her way home, and she'd leave the window unlocked. She'd gotten a brief 'k' which made her wonder if she should warn him about the dangers of texting and swinging. It made her remember that time he'd gone swinging after drinking too much. He had been so bruised and scraped up, like he'd fought the Rhino. It had only happened once that she knew of.

He couldn't afford to be caught by his enemies in that condition.

She unlocked the window and pulled her laptop out to work and eat while she waited.

She was about to call it a night, when someone knocked on her door.

Mary Jane frowned and glanced at the empty window.

Peter's smile greeted her when she opened the door, a bouquet of flowers cradled in his arm, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey. So, I thought it would be a good idea to, um," he stepped through the door she held open, and didn't continue until she'd closed the door. "come through your front door instead. So maybe it wouldn't look too weird when I left in the morning?"

She pressed her lips together, pinching them into a frown. "Hm. You actually gonna make it to morning, you think"

His brown eyes widened and he shifted his feet before holding out the bouquet. "Flowers?"

That made her crack. "It's fine, Pete. Flowers are always welcome." She took the flowers and a kiss while she was at it, "Thank you," she said, loving the smile that spread across his face. "I'll just put these in some water. Did you want to take a shower?"

"Shower? Oh," he rubbed the back of his neck, "that would be great, if you don't mind."

"Don't be silly. Besides, I bet you're covered in street sweat. And web residue." She went into the kitchen, locking her window as she passed by. She picked up a glass jar full of pens on her kitchen counter and dumped them into a drawer.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Pete take his coat off, and stick that and his shoes in her coat closet. He set his back pack on the couch to dig for a change of clothes.

"So," Mary Jane said as she carried the impromptu vase into the living room and set it on her windowsill, "what happened to your old apartment? Did you trade it for Aunt May's place until you could sell it?"

He paused, wrinkled sweats in his hands, haunted eyes staring at nothing on the wall, "N-no. I'd been sleeping at F.E.A.S.T before that, in-in her office."

She had to remember to shut her mouth, and maybe not stare quite so hard. "Oh, Pete," what could she do but go to him and reach out. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't know." She dropped her hand when he turned, sad eyes behind his mussed bangs.

Pete grimaced in what most would pass as an uncomfortable smile. "Don't be. I never said anything."

She crossed her arms in the hug she wanted to give Pete, but she knew he wouldn't want her pity. She would not cry either, he wouldn't appreciate that. Parker Pride and all. "I'm going to go get ready for bed. Go get clean." She turned, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

His hand shot out, snagging her arm to turn her around. His eyes flicked over her face for a second, before he said, "Thanks, MJ. For… well everything."

She gave him a watery smile, and retreated when he headed for the bathroom.

The water was still running when she'd finished changing and sprucing up. So she took the opportunity to make sure she didn't have anything embarrassing laying around. She guessed it must be hard to get a good hot shower, even at F.E.A.S.T. She sure couldn't begrudge him a long one now.

She heard the door close, and put down the picture of her, Harry and Peter that stood on her dresser.

He sat on the couch, eating while scrolling through his phone, his wet hair as flat and neat as it would never look dry. Gray sweats and white tee that just revealed the muscles beneath. She liked the tease of the shirt, more than she'd ever liked the tight cling of any of his Spidey-suit designs. Which was ridiculous, really.

Mary Jane paused at her bedroom door, doing one last tug at her nightie's hem and making sure her straps sat properly on her shoulder. Goosebumps rippled on her arm from the chill her tiny heater couldn't push out of her apartment. The goosebumps chased the chill right up her back side too, but that couldn't be helped. She brushed her fingers through her own limp hair, pulling a few strands in front of her shoulders. Another tug at her high cut hem, and Mary Jane walked around her couch.

"You did call Miles, so he's not expecting you, right?"

"Of course," he said between bites "Mm, this is good Thai. I-" He froze before she'd even gotten all the way to where he could actually see her. Then he choked, his eyes locked on her.

She smiled with tight lips at him. "Something wrong, tiger?"

"No, no uh ahem." Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from her, and stared into the depths of this box of Thai instead, as though it could offer some truth of the universe. "You look… That's looks really good on you."

Mary Jane pressed a hand between her breasts, brows furrowed and lower lip pouting. "Good? Is that all?"

Electro couldn't have put more of a shock into his reaction, and she wondered if his Spider-sense could tell him he was treading dangerous ground. He held a placating hand up to her, looking at her again with his big brown eyes. "Beautiful, I meant beautiful."

She slid onto the couch next to him, careful to keep her knees pressed together, and a hand on the hem of her nightie. "Mmmm. Better."

So close, her fingers could no longer resist the magnetic pull of his skin. Silk that wrapped around steel bands of his wrists, and the firm curve of his bicep.

Pete stared down at her hand, his breath ragged, air whistling past his clenched teeth, eyes burning.

She pulled her hand away, clasping her hands together to resist the urge to touch him more. "You should finish eating," she told him. God knows how often he got to enjoy a full meal at any point, much less when he didn't even have a place of his own.

He nodded, swallowed visibly and turned back to eating.

"The flowers were a pleasant surprise, where'd they come from?"

"Uh, well… I stopped some idiots from robbing a nice hispanic lady at her booth. And she gave me a bouquet as thanks. Or maybe it was a marriage proposal for her daughter. I'm a little rusty on my Spanish."

Ooh, he's got jokes. She must be making him uncomfortable. Which meant she had him right where she wanted him, ripe for some… fun. "Should I be jealous?" she asked, with a flutter of her eyes.

He may have been staring at his Thai box, but he sure did suck in a breath when she shifted closer, hands splayed over her knees. "I mean, she was pretty. They both were, but I'd rather… look at you?" He shoved a fork full of noodles into his mouth, his face tinged red.

"Nice save."

He choked a soft chuckle. Sniffed and asked as casually as pososible, "What time do you need to be up for work? I don't want to make you late."

"I should be heading to bed here soon."

His eyes slid over to her, gaze lingering on her bare legs. "You should be dressed a little warmer, don't want you to get sick." Pain pinched his eyes and he dropped his eyes back to his Thai to take an unenthusiastic bite.

Mary Jane set her hand on his arm, squeezing in sympathetic grief. "I won't, Pete. Don't worry. I think it's plenty warm, right here at least."

Oops, well she had her hands on him again. And she could smell him, clean soap and musty clothes that had been sitting in a backpack exposed to the elements for way too long. She rested her head on his shoulder, just so she could wrap his scent around her like a warm blanket. She hummed, rubbing a gentle circle with her fingers on the swell of muscle and tendon just below the bend of his elbow. She stroked her hand down his arm and over his wrist to cup her palm over his knuckles.

He'd frozen again, and she didn't have to look, to know that his eyes followed the path of her fingers. His breath shuddered out of his chest. "Maybe I should head to bed too..."

She supposed he'd trailed off because she had lifted her head so that she could watch her finger trace the dip between the muscles in his shoulders. Whatever their official name was. Who cared? "Bed sounds like a great idea. If you're done?"

"I don't think I'm going to be able to eat another bite, honestly," he said in a soft voice.

She kissed his cheek, and took the box of half eaten peanut noodles from his hand, careful not to touch his fingers. She stood and took it into the kitchen to stick it in the fridge. Then she headed for her bedroom, still very careful with her hem.

"MJ?"

She turned to find him turned about on the couch to watch her. "Coming?"

He jumped to his feet. "Sure, yeah, definitely. I mean, of course. I mean, if-"

She cut him off with a finger to her lips. She smiled at him. "Maybe you'd prefer to sleep on the c-?"

This time he cut her off, hopping over her couch as if he did it every day. Okay, he probably did. He took her hand, brought her palm to his lips. "With you sounds a lot better." Then he kissed her, pulling her close, and wrapping her up in his warm, tight embrace. "You are too much of a tease, you know."

She crooned at him, sliding her arms around his neck and bringing him down for another indulgent kiss. "You don't know the half of it, tiger."

His brows lifted and he pulled away to look down at her. "Should I be scared?" He kissed her again, anyways.

"Maybe," she managed to say, breath stolen by the urgency of his lips and tongue. She pressed her breasts against him, and slid a knee up his leg.

He trembled against her, and his excitement prodded her belly through his pants. He grabbed at her thigh, pulling her up his body until she had to wrap her legs around his waist to steady herself. He trailed his mouth down to her neck, and what could she do but to lift her chin and tilt her neck into his gentle lips.

Her heart raced in her chest, and she shifted her hips against him, fully aware of the cloth that stood between them. Clinging to him with her one hand, and trusting the incredible strength of his arms to hold her, she caressed his side, feeling each muscled ridge hidden underneath his tee.

Pete lifted his head, gasping. "Waitwaitwait."

Mary Jane tilted her head, "Hm?"

"I've got uh..." he sucked in a breath. "thingies in my backpack. Condoms."

She pursed her lips to keep the smile off her face. "Ooh, thought you were gonna get lucky tonight anyways."

"Yeah, well," he said pressing apologetic kisses to her lips. "A guy can dream, right? Better prepared than not. No surprises you, you know?"

She held him in a kiss, tightening her legs around his waist. "I know. Which is why I've got that under control, Pete."

"Oh." Another long, involved kiss that ended on her neck. His muscles twitched beneath her fingers. "'s gonna be messy."

"Pete, that's so the least of my worries," she crooned into his ear.

He answered her statement with a groan. Then he shifted her weight in his arms, until she had no choice but to grab at his shoulders to hold on, her balance lost, even though she still knew he would never drop her. She told him so with teasing butterfly kisses across his lips.

He took an unsteady step, toward her bedroom door, hands holding her waist to him. He paused, face puzzled, thumbs rubbing at the junction of her leg and hip.

"MJ," he said, the midst of her kisses, "did you forget something?"

She smiled and rested her cheek against his, breathing gently into his ear. Just to feel him shudder. "What makes you think it was forgotten?"

"Oh? Oh! Oh god." He jammed her against the wall, almost a stagger if she didn't know any better. It elicited a grunt of surprise from her, squeezed out as he ground his hip into her crotch. "Sorry. Sorry. Wanted to get you to bed first," he panted, voice strained.

She could see the desire warring in his eyes. So she helped him decide by taking his earlobe between her teeth in a gentle nibble.

He squeezed her waist in fingers that could crush iron, and then he shifted her weight into one arm again, motions jerky and as strained as his voice.

The cloth disappeared, yanked down, and he plunged into her, filling her.

She leaned her shoulders against the wall as he did, just so she could see the ecstasy in his eyes before they slid close. Then she didn't have any thought but for the rocking of their hips, as she matched his thrusts with her own, trying to leverage her back against the wall to give them both the best angle.

He held her waist as he thrust inside of her with a steel grip that wouldn't drop her. Squeezed a little too tight.

He whimpered as her lips trailed the lines of his neck, up to his lips and eyes before running down the other side.

She could tell he labored to stay in control. Even, or maybe especially, in the midst of his passion. Thrusts controlled and timed, breath shaking, but even.

"Too gentle, Pete. Please, I want to _feel_ you."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head, his brown eyes on her. "Might hurt you."

She didn't say he couldn't, because they both knew better, but, "You wouldn't, Pete. I trust you. Trust me too please. I'd tell you."

A sob shook him, not grief, but anguish and he warred within himself again.

She couldn't do anything to influence him now, that would be cheating, especially since she had such huge advantages in her current position. Instead she leaned her head against the wall, watched him, taking in the way his wet t-shirt cling to his normally hidden muscles. She even resisted the urge to wiggle her hips, since he'd stopped moving, which meant he had far more control than she'd given him credit for.

"Okay. Let's try. This. Hold tight." He let go of her waist, leaving her clinging to his neck and waist planting his hands on the wall above her shoulders.

Above?

No, he wasn't seriously.

He braced one elbow on the wall next to her head and a hand on the wall next to her hip. One of his knees propped itself against the wall, and then he kissed her, pressing her into the wall.

She kissed him back, fists full of his shirt. "No holes in the wall, please," she gasped into his ear as he buried his face into her neck.

A groan ripped out of Pete's chest, and he jerked his hips into motion. Gentle at first, but he quickly picked up the pace .

Mary Jane threw her head back, her hands balling in his tee.

Muscles rippled beneath her hands, and arms. Peter panted and grunted against her cheek, occasionally dropping his head into her neck as he twisted his hips into a better angle.

She focused on the pressure building in the pounding force of his passion. Pleasure and pain that blended together, until one of his adjustments stabbed in places it shouldn't. "Pete!"

He didn't stop, but his motions slowed, soothing strokes within her. The hand at her side left the wall, and caressed her leg. "Sorry. Sorry. Need to stop?"

She shook her head, and then kissed him. Letting him know she was okay with as few words as possible, still catching her breath.

He still held onto the wall with one hand and he still moved against her, slowly building up speed again, though with that veneer of control that he always used with her. The hand on her leg slid to her butt, and then planted itself back on the wall at her side. Pete grunted again, and ground his hips into her, crushing her into the wall as he went completely tense in her arms.

Then he was easing her down the wall, both unsteady on their feet. He rested his head on the wall next to hers and gasped for his breath back, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

She still wanted to touch him, her fingers light on his back while he recovered. She traced the line of his spine up into his damp hair, which she twisted in her fingertips. She stared into his sleepy brown eyes, admiring the hazel flecks in his irises.

One of his hands lifted to touch her face and he smiled. Leaned close to press a kiss onto her lips. "Really think I'm ready for bed, now."

Mary Jane pushed herself away from the wall, slipping away from the arm Peter had on her waist. She snagged his hand though, and pulled him around the corner and lead him to her bed. She climbed onto the mattress, and turned to help lift Pete's tee shirt off his body, tossing it to the floor. She kissed his chest, licking a line of sweat on his skin. Then she nibbled her way over the peaks of the six packs normally hidden under his clothes, to the thin hairs that started just above the waistband of his sweatpants.

The hard muscle under her mouth flexed and Peter's hands paused in lifting her nightie. "What are you-?"

Mary Jane pulled his sweatpants down and then - "Seriously, Pete? I didn't think superheroes wore their own merchandise."

He moved away, covering his Spidey-wear. "Hey, beggars can't be choosers! Don't really have much-" he trailed off.

Mary Jane laid her head against his thigh. "You're going to be begging for sure," she said as breathily as she could. "But you don't get to keep these on" Then she pointed to his wrists "Those have got to go, too."

His brown eyes widened, and he quickly slipped the webshooters off his wrists, tossing them onto the nightstand next to her bed. The embarassing example of underwear went next, landing on the floor somewhere opposite the vicinity of his sweatpants.

Mary Jane ran her hands over his rigid thigh muscles, sliding her fingers under him so she could squeeze his butt. She had to say one thing for the Spidey costume, it really gave a great view of Pete's butt. She'd even given it a squeeze a time or too. She also liked the way he squeaked when she pinched him.

He squeaked, jumping in her arms. His hands landed on her shoulder and he pulled her up to rob her breath with a heated kiss. He didn't object when she pushed him back onto her pillow. He ran nimble hands over her back, hooking fingers onto the bottom of her gown to expose her own backside for a return squeeze. His other hand swept around to squeeze her breast. He growled, fingers tighteng on her rear. His head dropped to mouth her breast, taking her nipple between his teeth through the thin fabric of her gown.

She curled her arms around his head, fingers threaded through his hair.

He rubbed circles on her back and shoulders, wandering down to her thighs and back again.

She rubbed her cheek on his hair, shifting her legs as he tried to guide waist where he wanted her. "Mm-mm," she hummed.

"Mm-mm?" He kissed his way back up to her mouth and then her ear. "Why not Mm-hmm?"

She looked down at him, meeting his eyes when he let her pull away. Though one of his hands still curled over her waist. She smiled at him, and wriggled her hips. "I have something else in mind."

A look of confusion passed across his face. "S-something else? What does that-Oh!"

She cut him of by sliding down the length of his body and taking him into her mouth. She grimaced a bit at the taste, but she didn't pull away.

Peter gasped, shifting his weight on the bed. Mary Jane glanced up and found him on his elbows, eyes intent on her, beads of sweat budding on his face.

Mary Jane bobbed her head, humming into Peter's member, and making him take another sharp breath. She let him go, only so that she could run her tongue up his length, and circle a finger over the head. Mary Jane glanced up at Pete through her eyelashes, pleased to see the strain on his face. She wanted more from him, so she nuzzled his crotch, right next to his erect penis, breathing on the dark curls at its base. She nipped at the sensitive skin just at the junction of hip and leg, making him jerk. Then she returned her mouth to his hard cock, the fingers of one hand playing with his testicles, while the other rubbed him from the base of his penis and up to her lips and back down again.

His breath became ragged again, and his hips jerked with the need to thrust into her. She saw the sheets twisted in his hands and couldn't help but to reach out and stroke the top of his knuckles.

Her mouth tired and she took a break to run her tongue along his length. Mary Jane straightened, stretching her back, hand still circling Peter's erection.

Peter pulled her up to kiss her, desperation in the hands that scrabbled over her.

She didn't let him pull her on top of him though."Not done yet, tiger."

He whined, a petulant sound that she couldn't help but laugh.

She kissed him on the lips again then bent back over his waist and went back to business. She tilted her head toward the fingers that briefly played over her hair, wishing they would have lingered, but understanding why they didn't.

Like, really understanding why he was so careful when they were… doing things. Like she remembered his look of absolute guilt whenever she'd been around him wearing that cast on her wrist, even though it had been over five years ago. So, yeah. She understood. She wished otherwise, though.

She crooned around her mouthful, measuring the racing of his heart through the quickening pulse under her tongue and the soft sounds she heard from his throat.

She glanced up to find his head thrown back, mouth agape, muscles in his arms trembling. She smiled at the look on his face, the way every little thing she did twisted his eyes and brow and even the corners of his mouth. Even running her hand along the inside of his leg, along a thick tendon sent another shudder through him, making him jerk beneath her.

She rubbed her legs together, wondering if he'd prefer to finish this the traditional way, or …. should she swallow or spit? Would he be offended if she didn't want it in her mouth at all? He'd probably say whatever she wanted would be fine. Jerk.

She could tell he was close from the way his breath hitched, which was good, since her jaw had started aching a bit ago, and she didn't want to take another break.

He wheezed her name right then, "I'm-" and his hips spasmed, almost gagging her.

She jerked her head away, catching a few of the spurts on her tongue, and chin. She kept her hand around his shaft though, a gentle squeeze to give Pete something to push against.

Pete pulled her up to kiss her again, trembling fingers wiped her chin and mouth. "S-sorry. Felt too good, MJ. So good."

She tucked her body against his side, resting her head on the round muscle of his shoulder. "I'm sorry, too. I still don't like the taste Pete." She played with his nipple, just a gentle circle around the tip. She stretched the soreness out of her jaw, watching him catch his breath.

Kind of an exhilaration to know she could lay Spider-man out like this, with just her mouth and tongue and other bits. But she loved the man under the mask more than the mask, though there'd been a time when she hadn't known and hadn't wanted to choose.

"'s okay," he groaned, "I don't like wearing it. Do I need to grab a towel for you?"

"Oh Pete," she said, rubbing his pecs in appreciation. "I don't think you could anyways." She rolled over and pulled a towel out of her nightstand drawer, quickly wiping at her face. She paused at the look on his face when she turned around. "Yes?"

"Sneaky. Had this all planned." He took the towel and dabbed it at his groin and the hard planes of his stomach. He leaned toward her, gesturing for her to lift her leg.

Mary Jane obliged, her cheek resting on her fist while she admired the view. "You only now figuring this out?" She grinned, she couldn't help it. The smile melted when he replaced the towel with his mouth though.

"No. I had you pegged. The moment I realized. You weren't wearing. Underpants," he said between kisses.

Mary Jane covered her mouth with her hands, whimpers bursting out anyways. His tongue lit her nerves like a lightning bolt, and she clenched her legs around his head a cry bursting out. She lifted her hips into his mouth, squriming uncontrollably.

Pete panted a laugh against her. His hands curl around the legs, not pulling them away from his head, just holding them.

She realized that he hadn't really recovered from their second go, but he was still willing to do this. It made her heart swell with adoration for this man. He'd always been willing to do everything, not just for her, but everyone. She knew it was why he put on the costume everyday without fail.

He worked her over, with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. She lost track of time, and glimpses down found his brown eyes focused on her, or closed in concentration.

She whimpered and gasped, soft cries exploding from her lips. A little irritated in the back of her mind that he could get so much of a reaction out of her and she barely got a grunt out of him until the end.

One of his hands circled her wrist and pulled her hand away. "Don't cover up," he murmured, "I like hearing you."

"Not fair," she gasped, squirming at whatever he was doing with his fingers. "You never made a sound."

He pulled away, eyes blinking and confused. "Oh. I didn't- I mean I liked—loved it. Does that matter to you?"

She laughed, laying her head on the pillow and squeezing her thighs in a hug around his head. "Of course. Silly. But don't you stop now."

He laughed again, warm breath washing over her. He didn't stop, and had her writhing on the bed again.

Unlike him, she didn't have any issues with worrying about control or the lack there of, so she stroked and combed her fingers through his hair, caressed what little of his forehead she could reach. She wanted more contact from him, wanted the thrust of more than his tongue and fingers. But he didn't stop or pull away and she wouldn't stop him even if she wanted to.

Every where his fingers touched sent rings of fire through her skin. She might explode if she couldn't find release.

"There," she gasped at him, suddenly. She jerked when he did it again and then her vision went white.

Pete crawled up to lay next to her. He kissed her, pushing the gown away from her sweaty skin so that he could run his hands over her body.

"Think you can handle another round?" he asked.

Ooh, right. One thing (good or bad depended on her mood) about sleeping with Spider-man. He had really short recovery time.

Rather than answer she wrapped her arms around his neck and her trembling legs around his waist. Rocked into his thrusts.

Third time was the charm for him. She whited out again and the tightening brought him to orgasm at the same time.

Gasping, he lay splayed over her.

She didn't even have the strength to stroke his back, not even with her fingertips. She just wanted to sleep.

So she did, since there was nowhere in the world that she would be safer than in Peter's arms.

* * *

**Author's End Notes:** Follow-up still needs to be done for Pete losing his apartment and telling **exactly no one ** in the game. THat'll be the third story. Miles is next on my list (not gonna be smut though, he's fifteen in the game for crying out loud)


	2. Spider-man's Girlfriend

**Author's Notes **I really wanted to write the Miles perspective that I'd seen left open during the game's act 3. Normally, I'm a linear writer, but I bounced around the chronology in writing this fic and tried not to make it a disjointed mess. Even though this is a something I wanted to see more of in the game, I really didn't plan this, and tried to fit things together as organically as I could and it all predicates on the fact that we never actually saw Miles and MJ interact or even talk about each other in the game, besides one scene in the game. Reallyreally hope it works. I also decided that I'll just continue this series as a single fic, since I still dislike cluttering my story list by a bunch of one shots. Yes, there will be more. I'm already jumping ahead of myself in the writing of it. No smut here, sorry. (Miles is 15 in the game. NO SMUT!)

* * *

Miles rushed up the stairs with the heavy box. The pounding of his steps echoed loudly in the empty stairwell. The box weighed him down, and his arms and legs ached by the time he reached the top. He ignored the strain, because Spider-man needed water! He did pause just in front of the door to the roof where Spider-man and Mary Jane waited so that he could catch his breath rather than look like a little thing like stairs could wind him. He also needed a chance to cough the remaining smoke out of his lungs. He caught some snippets of conversation just as he opened the door.

"-till partners?"

"Always."

Miles shifted the box to one hand and immediately started to rifle through it. "Hey, uh, so I didn't know if, uh, you wanted sparkling, or flat, or spring, or mountain spring" he said holding up each as he found them in the box, "so I got one of each-"

The familiar-looking red-headed lady and Spider-man both looked… awkward was the only word he could think of for it.

He set the box on the ground, suddenly realizing that maybe he had a really bad sense of timing. He gestured at the door. "Am I… interrupting?"

Spider-man cleared his throat. "No, uh. MJ-Ms. Watson and I were just talking strategy," he said as the lady got to her feet.

Miles glanced back and forth, still aware of the tense atmosphere between the two. He really thought she looked familiar, but… "Strategy?" he asked hopefully, sliding down the rail. Not trying to get closer to his hero, not a bit.

Mary Jane took a deep breath, brushing her pony tail off her shoulder. "That's right. The city is in danger; it needs our help."

"**All** of our help," Spider-man cut in with some kind of weird look at her, discernible even with the mask.

Ignoring whatever had passed between them, Miles couldn't help but to jump at the chance to help his hero. "Alright, well. Call the play, coach."

Spider-man looked at the two of them and stood, visibly wincing. "Okay. Divide and conquer. Ms. Watson," he said turning those wide staring lenses down at her, "we need an antiserum for Devil's Breath. Oscorp's developing something, but there's no way they can keep it safe from Octavius and Li. We need to find the cure and protect it."

Mary Jane nodded as the superhero took a moment to wheeze for breath. "I'll chase down some leads."

Spider-man then turned to regard Miles. "Miles – you need to be my eyes and ears at F.E.A.S.T. Anything goes wrong call me. We need to keep that place and the people there safe."

Miles nodded, heart swelling with pride that he'd be helping Spider-man(!), and ready to earn his hero's respect. He wasn't sure why the shelter was so important, but there was no denying how much of a target it was to the inmates. It fit with Spider-man's superhero persona, who, unlike the Avengers, focused just as much on the safety of individuals as he did the entire populace. "Alright, you've got it… what are you gonna do?"

Spider-man stood tall, arms at his side as though he'd not been wheezing and in pain only moments before. "A gang of costumed nut-jobs is taking the city apart piece by piece. Time I returned the favor." With that the webbed-suited hero turned to climb the short staircase.

"Alright." Miles nodded, trying to think of anything else that might have been forgotten. Call? "Hey wait – um, how do I call you?" His stomach dropped at the look Spider-man turned on him. Though maybe that was just Miles' apprehension with everything happening, twisting his thoughts.. "I mean do you have like a cellphone in your... in your pockets, or something?"

Spider-man sighed and gestured to the other person on the roof. "Ms. Watson can give you my number. Good luck, team." Then he was gone, climbing up a line shot out to a taller building.

Miles blinked and turned to Mary Jane in shock. "You have his number… are you… Spider-man's girlfriend? That would be so cool, if..."

He vaguely remembered a dust-covered red-head crying '_Come on say something. Please.'_ But that day was such a blur he couldn't remember if it was her... or someone else. '_Can you hear me? Peter!'_

Mary Jane interrupted his thoughts with a wave of her hand. "Come on, Sherlock. Show me what you've got in this water smörgasbord."

Miles followed her up and knelt down next to the box. He started as he realized, "Spider-man didn't take any water!"

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well. He's good like that. I know he appreciated the gesture though." She lifted one of the bottles and rolled it around so she could read the label "We'll make sure to save one of the flats for him."

Miles was a lot of things; stupid wasn't one of them. She was avoiding the question. Maybe that was because a superhero's girlfriend could invite a lot of problems. Did she know his secret identity? (Oh my god, had she had _done the nasty _with _Spider-man?_) She was pretty, but Miles didn't know if she could rate a superhero… no, no, no. Way to be judgey, Miles. He barely knew her. After all she did come and help when he and May had been stuck in that burning building.

Still, hadn't Spider-man called her, 'MJ'. He'd seen her with Peter too, right? At his dad's funeral?

He'd been around long enough at F.E.A.S.T. to have heard about Peter being a hot item with 'MJ' some time ago. This couldn't possibly be the same one, could it?

Mary Jane handed Miles a bottle of spring water. "You should drink something, too, Miles. Spider-man wouldn't want you to suffer a heat stroke after he went through all that trouble to save you." She put action to words by taking a swig out of one of the seltzer bottles. She stood, lifting the box with a soft grunt. "Come on. We should take these to May. She'll need one, as well." She glanced in the direction Spider-man had left, a strange expression on her face. "Besides, we've got jobs to do."

Miles nodded and stood. He took the box without really thinking, He'd never be able to live with himself if he let Spider-man's girlfriend carry something that heavy.

Even if she might have broken his friend's heart.

Miles never thought he'd have to be conflicted about who he should care about more, Peter Parker, or Spider-man? What kind of a choice was that?

"So," he said, unable to stop the question from coming out. "Did you break up with Pete to date Spider-man then?"

Mary Jane jerked to a stop and whirled on him. "What made you think I was ever dating Peter?" Her voice hit some oddly panicked pitches.

"You're the infamous MJ, right? That's what everyone at the shelter says."

She laughed, though Miles didn't think it sounded like genuine humor. "Infamous, really?"

Miles shifted the box in his hands, wishing he had left a hand free. He needed to… not open his mouth quite so freely. "Not infamous in a _bad_ way. Just, no one can believe you left such a nice guy like Pete, I guess."

She closed her eyes and took a measured breath, as though she was counting to ten silently to herself. "Pete _is_ a great guy. But I had my reasons to br-which are quite frankly none of your concern." She shook her head and hurried down the stairs and away from the conversation.

Miles frowned, because she still hadn't confirmed or denied neither being Spider-man's girlfriend nor the reason she'd broken up with Peter. Which in itself was an answer, as far as he was concerned.

He wasn't sure he liked that thought very much. Spider-man deserved better.

Miles hurried through the doors of the shelter. The place seemed louder and more crowded than when he left. Maybe it was the blood still pounding in his ears from his escape from the Rhino and those asshole convicts. He could still feel the bones of that guy's jaw against his knuckles, and his hand still ached a little from the impact.

Peter had taken the news of Miles' close call pretty well, all things considered.

It had been a surprising reaction compared to how his dad or mom (especially his mom) would have behaved given the same news. Miles stopped at the medical station and handed the bottles he'd grabbed over to the volunteer distributing supplies

"I'm sorry, Vicki That's all I could get."

Victoria took the two measly bottles of antibiotics from him. "It's okay, Miles. Anything is helpful, right now."

Peter made his way through the scattered mess of beds that covered the floor in an absolute disarray. He didn't run, but he rushed, his eyes intent on Miles. "Thank god, you're safe. I couldn't leave until I knew you were back."

"Sorry if you worried, Pete. I could only get two..."

"Anything is better than what we had," he said, unknowingly echoing what Victoria had just told him. "You did good. Listen, Aunt May's not looking good at all, though. You going to be okay to hold down the fort without her?"

Miles couldn't help the widening of his eyes. "Is she okay?"

The corners of Peter's mouth tilted down, concern knitting his brows. "I hope she's just tired. But I can't be sure."

Miles took a calming breath; Spider-man, May and Peter needed him to be strong right now. He rolled his shoulders back. "You can count on me." Peter and Spider-man both!

Peter smiled, his eyes pinched at the corners. "I knew I could depend on you." He nodded Miles ahead. "Come on, I'll help with lunch in the kitchen for a little bit, before I head back out."

Miles grinned and bounced on his heels as he lead the way to the kitchen. Peter was so easy to talk to, his gentle voice and demeanor pulled words out of Miles better than his therapist ever could. Miles told him about the people he'd met and what he'd heard from around the city. Peter added bits of insight about some of the regulars, and what he'd seen around the city. Warnings about things not to mention to certain people, and places to avoid in the city. Kinda scary hearing that some of the convicts were setting up bases in some of the neighborhoods.

"Where's your mom?" Peter asked abruptly, pausing as he cubed the potatoes. "I meant to ask that sooner, sorry."

Miles didn't stop as he carefully cut up the carrots. "She's fine. She's holed up with one of her friends. They should be safe, because the husband is kind of a gun nut."

Peter heaved another sigh. "Good. That's really good." He finished the potatoes and dumped them into the stew pot.

"I thought Aunt May said that you weren't any good in the kitchen."

"Yeah, maybe when I was a teen at her house. But I have lived by myself for a while and it's expensive eating out all the time. So I had to learn or starve." Pete shrugged and started quartering the mushrooms.

Miles paused in adding the carrots to the mix. "Ugh, mushrooms, Pete? We're not Mario!"

Peter grinned, but that didn't stop him from working on the disgusting things. "Talking mushrooms were my nightmare when I was a kid. Kinda feels like a victory that I'm eating them, now, instead of the other way around."

Miles snorted, as he measured the spices and added them next. "How are mushrooms scary? Disgusting, yes. Scary, not so much."

"Hey, I was a kid. And Toad was creepy. Didn't say it made sense." Pete huffed a little chuckle. "Now, I've got much scarier things to worry about." His eyes focused on a point in front of him, eyes haunted. "A lot scarier."

Miles laughed. "I'd usually think you were talking about bills and taxes, like Dad used to say." The smile slid off his face at his own mention of his Father, but he couldn't help but think about what Spider-man had said about the costumed nut-jobs and what Peter had been saying about the convicts, "but there are scarier things out there right now."

Peter did pause in cutting the mushrooms then. He put a hand on Miles shoulder, and squeezed with a surprising amount of strength. "Hey, there's always bad things out in the world, but there's good things out there, too. Those who are able, should make sure that the good is as prevalent as they can make it. That's what you're doing here, it's good work to help people less fortunate than you or me. If it's within our power, then it should be our responsibility. My uncle used to tell me something… mostly like that." Peter smiled and went back to his work on the mushrooms.

Miles nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense. That's what F.E.A.S.T. is about, right?"

"That's right." A chirrup interrupted their conversation. Pete paused and checked his phone. He hissed a sharp breath through his teeth. "Add those," he said pointing at the cubes of browned beef. "Let the stew cook for 45 minutes and then get the mushrooms in there..."

Miles interrupted him, he didn't know what Peter was doing when he wasn't at the shelter, especially with all the convicts running around. It had to be important, or he wouldn't leave the safety of the shelter. "Aunt May wrote the recipe down, Pete. I got this."

Peter nodded. He grimaced again, and then headed out, but he stopped by the couch where Mary Jane sat with her laptop. He leaned over the back of the couch and they chatted for a little bit, laughing briefly. Then Peter seemed to sober and he gestured up to the second floor. Mary Jane touched the arms he braced on the couch, her eyebrows knitted together. Peter didn't stay much longer with her, but continued on out the door. Mary Jane's gaze remained on the door a little before she glanced around the room.

Her eyes settled on Miles staring at her from the kitchen and even from that distance, he could see the blush coloring her face. She ducked her head, suddenly focused on her laptop again, but her shoulders remained tense.

They seemed really comfortable to be a couple that had broken up and supposedly not even spoken to each other for half a year. Miles narrowed his eyes, wondering how Spider-man felt about his girlfriend being on such friendly terms with her ex. Miles didn't like it, and Mary Jane's blush only continued to confirmehis suspicions as far as he was concerned.

Peter was gone, and Miles had finished cubing the beef, so he tossed it in the pot and ducked out of the kitchen to make a phone call.

The other side picked up after only a couple of rings, and Spider-man's voice came through, breathless as though he were moving quickly. "Miles, is everything okay?

"Yeah. Look, I wanted to tell you what I saw down at one of the relief centers a little bit ago..."

Miles rested his head in his hands. He ached all over and was just so tired. The day had drifted its way into an orange sunset, until night washed over the city.

"Miles, are you okay?"

Miles lifted his head and smiled at Aunt May. "I'm okay Aunt May. Just needed to close my eyes." The smile faded as she turned away to cough.

"You can't help anyone if you don't take care of yourself." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Look what happened to me, for instance." She chuckled, dry and humorless, interrupted by another coughing fit. Aunt May grabbed a tissue from the bedside table. She crumpled it in her fist when she finished, but Miles had seen the red stain in the folds.

He stood. "You should be resting, Aunt May. You're sick. I'm fine. It's just been a long day, but I can handle it."

The look of concern still knit Aunt May's brows.

Miles felt bad, making her worry about him when she should be taking care of herself instead.

"Aunt May, you awake?" Mary Jane ducked into the room, carrying two steaming mugs with spoons clicking around inside She paused when she saw Miles, and offered him a stiff smile. "Oh... Hey Miles. Didn't see you there."

Aunt May's brows rose into her hairline."MJ, dear. When did you get here?" She reached out a hand.

"Not too long ago." Mary Jane passed Miles and placed one of the mugs in May's outstretched hand. "Do you think you can hold something down, Aunt May?"

Aunt May made a face at the mug, but spoke pleasantly to Mary Jane. "It's so good to see you. Does Peter know your here?"

A hint of red crept across Mary Jane's neck, and Miles caught surreptitious glances tossed his way, as Mary Jane answered. "Yeah, he saw me." She cleared her throat and turned to hand Miles the other mug. "You look like you need this more than I do, Miles."

"I was just telling Peter not too long ago that I hoped you two could work things out. You'd make such beautiful babies, and I would love to see them before I'm too old to enjoy them."

The flush made its way across Mary Jane's face at that and she avoided Miles' eyes, flinching at Aunt May's words. "Yeah, well. Things don't always work out."

"You're still young, and friends, right? So-"

"But MJ already has a boyfriend." Miles bit his tongue when he realized what had slipped out of his mouth. There he goes talking without thinking again, when would he learn to just keep his mouth shut?

The look Mary Jane gave him could have peeled pain.

"Oh." There was no denying the disappointment in Aunt May's voice, but that faded away as she lifted an eyebrow at Mary Jane. "I'm certain he's not nearly as nice as Peter."

"Really?" Mary Jane hissed at Miles. She took a deep breath, composed her face, and turned to Aunt May. "Not gonna deny that guys like Peter are hard to find. You should eat something, Aunt May. Miles is going to help me look for… this thing. In the storage room." Mary Jane took Miles by the shoulder and hauled him out of the room.

"But I haven't finished-"

"You can bring it," she snapped.

She dragged him into an empty hallway before she whirled on him. "Why would you say _that_? She doesn't need to know anything about _that_._" _

"What? It's not like I said _who_ you're dating."

Mary Jane raised a finger to silence him. "Superhero relationships one-oh-one. You don't tell people you're in a relationship with a superhero. Saves me from being a target, and him from having to worry about me so much. Trust me, _superheroes_ worry enough for everyone involved."

"So, what? You can't even tell Pete you're unavailable? Cause, you'd have to be blind not to see that he's hoping to get back together with you."

Mary Jane crossed her arms, but Miles could see how tightly she clenched her fists. "Pete and I are friends first, before anything else, but even he can't know."

"So you playing both fields then? I saw you flirting with Pete," Miles snapped when she opened her mouth to object.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she set her jaw. "I don't want to hurt Peter. No matter what you think." She took a deep breath, though her eyes still flashed with anger. "I have work to do." She spun on her heels, her ponytail whipping behind her and stormed off.

Miles rubbed the back of his neck. That could have gone better. He turned and went back to sit with Aunt May a little longer, ostensibly to finish the soup Mary Jane had brought. He also wanted to just bask in the calming presence of Peter's Aunt for a little bit.

Superhero relationships 101, huh? How long had she been going out with Spider-man with that kind of knowledge? (Yeah, there would be no more trying to deny it after what she'd said. She'd all but admitted it.) Miles ground his teeth, because she'd also not denied flirting with Pete. That bitch.

Miles sorted through the boxes that Sarah had brought in, using a recently emptied and cleaned gurney to place the items. It was the only free space in the shelter. He needed to stay busy, because he couldn't keep dwelling on the fact that Aunt May was _not getting better._ Or the fact that he couldn't get a hold of Peter.

Then the door burst open and the lady that ran the mercenaries and some other guy strode in, dragging the limp body of Spider-man between them. Miles gasped and swiped everything he'd just been sorting onto the floor.

The man looked around and focused on Miles. "I need to speak to your head doctor."

"Uh," Miles shook his head, wondering where the man thought he was and snapped back. "There's no doctors here!"

The guys eyes squinted. "Well who's running this place?"

Miles looked around. "Me, mostly."

"Oh." The man seemed to visibly deflate, but nodded acceptance. "Okay. Well, it's been a while, but I'll do my best."

Kurt, John and the mercenary lady laid Spider-man on the gurney that Miles had cleared.

The guy (a doctor?) turned to Spider-man, hands hovering over a bloody tear in Spider-man's side. "I'll need masks, gloves, whatever you have that's sterile."

Miles didn't have time to see what was wrong, but he'd noticed how still Spider-man was. Spider-man should be swinging over the city, or running up walls. He didn't think he'd seen any times when Spider-man was so still. Even when he was perched on a ledge or a tower, his head would be turning and tilting as he scanned the city below, shoulders heaving with the enormous effort of his webswinging.

Miles guts twisted, and he wanted to throw up. But he swallowed that feeling, because they needed him. He ran to grab a box of what passed for medical supplies at F.E.A.S.T: masks, gloves, hand sanitizer, bandages.

The silver-haired-lady-whose-name-Miles-couldn't-remember leaned over Spider-man, her gray eyes bright and mouth set in a grimace.

Miles returned in time to hear Spider-man thank her, his voice weak and _wrong_.

She responded (in a really sexy accent), "You can thank me by not _dying_."

Miles set the box down, staring down at the fucking rib sticking out of Spider-man's suit. Dr. Michaels had lifted the bottom of the hero's mask to fit an oxygen mask over his face. Blood flecked on the pale lips beneath the fabric, and the mouth opened, wheezing air in shallow breaths.

"Oh my god."

Miles eyes shot up, wondering who had read his mind. He was dizzy from the amount of blood that covered the costume. He couldn't imagine what kept Spider-man conscious, and not screaming in pain.

Mary Jane had just walked in.

Miles stepped away, getting out of the way of the adults running around Spider-man's prone body. What did you for the girlfriend of his favorite hero when he was laid out like a cadaver.

"Boy," the guy snapped.

Miles jumped and ran around for whatever the guy would need to save Spider-man. It meant that Miles didn't have time to think about what would happen if the hopefully-doctor-guy couldn't save Spider-man. What would happen to the city, then? So he kept running, ignoring Mary Jane who stood rooted in the same spot during the whole operation. The air hung too heavy with the words they'd exchanged earlier, for him to give her any words of comfort. Even when the doctor didn't need him, the shelter did.

Spider-man walked out of F.E.A.S.T over an hour later. as though he hadn't just been dragged in with a compound fracture of a rib and a pierced lung. The guy, Doctor Michaels, had said some words that would have resulted in Miles getting a mouthful of soap if his mom ever heard them coming out of his mouth.

Miles went to check on Aunt May, shaking one hand, and rubbing the creepy crawlies from his other hand on his pant leg. The spider bite he'd gotten earlier, throbbed painfully, but hadn't swollen, so he couldn't afford to stop and take care of it.

He found Mary Jane sitting in the chair at Aunt May's bedside, bent over with her arms folded over the back of her head. Her shoulders shook, and her breath shuddered.

Miles hesitated. "Hey, uh, bad time?" he asked. "I'm just checking..."

Mary Jane took a deep breath and sat up. "No. No. You're fine." Her red rimmed eyes blinked, and she quickly swiped her fingers over her cheeks. "I've got..."

"Have you heard from Pete?" Miles asked, cutting her off. He'd tried reaching Pete on his phone half an hour ago, but it had gone to voice mail every time.

Mary Jane shook her head, dropping her chin. "I haven't... really tried."

"Some friend." Miles turned around, deciding to move on with his next task.

Mary Jane stood, and took a step toward him, her hand outstretched, even though he was several feet away. "I'm sure that Pete's fine, but Miles, you look terrible. You need to get some rest."

Miles didn't turn as he walked out the door. "Spider-man just walked out of here. How can I do any less?" He paused and frowned. "Do you know where he went?"

"Spidey?" Mary Jane took a deep breath. "To get the serum, I hope." She hugged herself. "Maybe even talk some sense into Octavius, if he can. God, I hope he can."

Miles wished he could sit at Aunt May's side in Pete's place. So much needed to be done around the shelter though. _Come on, Pete. Aunt May needs you._ _Why haven't you gotten back yet? _He'd checked on her again, and Dr. Michaels caught the end of a conversation where he told Mary Jane that Aunt May wouldn't last another hour. The sick deteriorated so rapidly, Aunt May wouldn't be the first they lost, nor likely the last.

Dr. Michaels walked out of the room where Aunt May rested, another check as the hour rapidly passed.. Mary Jane hovered briefly before stepping away from the door (but not going too far). She hugged herself, face pained.

Miles made sure the nameless woman that Gloria had brought in had a blanket, and a mask.

An alarm suddenly broke through the undercurrent of conversation. Coming from May's office.

_Aunt May!_

Miles rushed to Aunt May's office.

Mary Jane beat him into the room. He couldn't see inside the room from this angle, but he heard Mary Jane's voice, if not her words.

By the time Miles got to the room, out of breath, and queasy (he couldn't afford to get sick too!), Mary Jane was walking away from the window, a hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheek.

Metal trashcans crashed and skittered in the alley outside.

"Stupid cat," Mary Jane said after a moment of startled staring at the window.

Miles didn't care about any cat, his eyes were all for Aunt May's still body. His chest ached, heart squeezed in his chest. He reached out a hand to take a pulse, but the heart monitor already told the story he expected.

Dead. Aunt May was dead.

"I've already called Peter," she said, her voice rough with tears. "He'll be here in a bit." Mary Jane hugged herself, and wiped her eyes. "I'm going to sit with Aunt May, and wait for Pete to get here." She blinked at Miles for a moment. "Oh, Miles. I'm sorry, for you too." She came over to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

Miles hadn't even realized he'd been crying; he wiped at his running nose, then his eyes. Having it pointed out only made it worse and no amount of blinking or controlled breathing helped.

"Thank god," broke into their quiet sobbing.

Miles looked up to see Dr. Michaels had gotten around them at some point. He held an innocuous blue bottle in one hand. The older gentleman noticed Miles watching and pocketed the bottle. He paused on his way at the room. "I'm sorry for your loss, but I can't stay. I need to get more of this manufactured," he said, tapping his pocket.

Miles' eyes widened. "You have the antiserum, but how? Where-" His breath hitched with surprise. "Was Spider-man here? I didn't see him." Why would he disappear so quickly?

"Yes, he was here." Mary Jane's hand flew up to her mouth and she turned and dashed out of the room. But not before she'd sobbed once, loudly.

Dr. Michaels had disappeared, and what could Miles do now? He'd hoped to show Aunt May everything he'd accomplished while she'd been sick. Now? Miles flopped into the chair, burying his face in his hands and he couldn't help the ragged sobs that wracked his body.

Sometime while he'd been crying the exhaustion he'd been suppressing finally took its toll. Miles woke up, eyes puffy and nose disgusting. He sat up and pushed the blanket off.

"Are you still tired?"

Miles squinted, but it was Mary Jane, sitting in the other chair, next to the gurney, that had asked, not Aunt May.

May was still dead.

Miles scrunched his eyes close, breathing out in an effort not to start up again, but he could hear the whine that squeezed out of his throat. His heart ached no matter what he tried. "I'm fine. Has Pete shown up?"

Mary Jane rested her elbows on her knees, rubbing at her cheeks again. "No. I can't get a hold of him. I was getting ready to go looking for him. He really shouldn't be alone, right now."

"H-Hey! I need a hand here," someone shouted from the floor below.

Miles met Mary Jane's eyes and they both stood in a rush and hurried to the shelter's entry.

Miles' stomach twisted again, and he hissed between his teeth. Mary Jane's strangled cry of alarm rang out in the quieted building, and she dashed forward.

"Oh my god, Peter!" She stopped in front of his limp form, carried between three of the shelter's residents, though Miles couldn't put a name to any at that moment. Her hands hovered over his face, as though she couldn't decide if she wanted to touch him. "What happened? Where was he? Where did you find him?"

Ernie (that's his name) tilted his head toward the door, staggering a bit under the weight of Pete's legs. "He was lying out there on the steps. Hodges found him..."

"May..."

Everyone froze and looked at Peter.

"Holy shit I didn't expect him to be conscious."

Mary Jane knelt in front of Peter, her hand resting on his cheek. "Peter, you awake?"

Peter's head lolled, and the faintest hint of his brown eyes showed beneath his eyelids. "May… need to see..." Pain twisted his face, and tears joined the rain on his cheeks. His head slumped again with a groan.

The men carried Pete to a free gurney and laid him on it. One of them opened his shirt, and they all hissed a sharp intake of breath at what they saw.

It looked like someone had taken a bat to Peter's torso, his belly and chest covered in colors that couldn't be healthy. Every breath caught in his chest, short and shallow, and Miles wondered how many broken ribs they would find.

"Blood on his shoulder, too" Ernie gesturing at the reddened fabric. Miles didn't hesitate to peel the shirt away from the sticky mess of blood congealed over his shoulders.

"What the hell happened?" Larry asked.

Kevin flipped the collar of the shirt back and forth. "Why doesn't his shirt have a hole in it?"

Mary Jane jerked upright, looking up from where she'd been checking his eyes. Her eyes widened as she examined the hole in in his shoulder, wiping the mess of blood away. "City full of convicts. Remember? This is going to need to be stitched."

Miles grabbed gloves, mask and bandages. "I'm not sure if we have anything to stitch him up. This isn't a hospital."

"Right. Then," Mary Jane shook her head, "bandages will have to do."

Mary Jane took over then, instructing Kevin to help her maneuver Pete's shoulder and arm so she could bandage his shoulder and stymie the bleeding with as much gauze as she could apply..

Miles wondered if he should be surprised that Mary Jane knew first aid, or if she had learned it to help Spider-man. She seemed so sure about what she was doing though, as though she'd had years to practice. Miles frowned. He wanted to stay with Peter now, but things still needed to be done around the shelter. (would he die?) Mary Jane worked on Peter with wet eyes, but the tears had dried on her face. (like Aunt May) Miles feet wouldn't move, like he had lead weights attached, or cement blocks over his shoes. (like Dad?)

Miles felt hot and cold at the same time. Fevered. Nauseous. He wanted to run.

Because Peter could die like everyone else close to Miles' heart.

Peter woke again, May's name on his lips as he struggled to sit up.

Miles moved then, joining the others in holding Peter down. He grabbed Peter's arm, as the three other men put their hands on his good shoulder, chest and legs. It was not easy. Peter was surprisingly strong and muscled beneath his loose fitting clothes.

Mary Jane grabbed Peter's jaw, trying to force his half-shuttered eyes to her. "Pete, Pete. Look at me. Please. It's too late, Pete. It's too late. You need to stay here." She repeated the words like a mantra.

Finally Peter did look up at Mary Jane, his breath ragged. His face crumpled and he stopped fighting to sit up. He grabbed Mary Jane's hand from his face with his good hand, and clenched her fingers as though she were an anchor. He cried, his sobs broken and hitching with his pained, shallow breaths..

A blush crept over Mary Jane's face, but she curled her fingers into his hand and brushed his rain-soaked hair back and out of his face. "I'm here, Pete. I know," she said, softly, pressing the back of his hand to her damp cheeks. She looked up, eyes bright with tears. "I'm going to stay with him, until we can get an ambulance out here."

Miles nodded, and left.

Staggered up the stairs, shaking and weak.

Peter could have died. Like everyone else. Like Aunt May had died.

He went to the quietest place he knew. Aunt May lay on the gurney, still as stone.

Miles collapsed into the chair, his own breathing ragged, wiping at the tears he hadn't known were running down his face again. His skin felt hot to the touch, clammy and uncomfortable.

He didn't remember falling asleep.

He only realized he had when he woke with a start at the needle jabbing into his arm.

Dr. Michaels knelt in front of him, focused on the syringe in his hand. "Stay with me kid, we'll make sure you're all right," he said, his voice gruff.

Hands pulled him horizontal onto a cold, empty gurney.

Miles, still shivering between hot and cold, let himself lapse back into siren spell of blissful oblivion.

Miles glanced at his phone while Ganke was going over the latest bugs he'd found with the hacking app. His eyebrows lifted when he saw he'd missed a call from Peter.

He'd woken from his fevered dreams of dancing spiders and stampeding rhinos and immediately been drafted to help distribute the antiserum that Dr. Michaels had created. There hadn't been time to think about Mary Jane and Peter until his mother told him the date for the funeral, reminding him that the city had lost one of its unspoken heroes in Aunt May.

Peter had kind of dropped off the face of the Earth after Aunt May's funeral. He'd moved to Queens for a while to sort out his Aunt's stuff and only recently had he been able to find a place in Manhattan again. Miles hadn't wanted to pry, though he'd visited Peter in Queens with his mom and Mary Jane during Christmas break. The Peter that had greeted them at the door had been a far cry from the man that had helped Miles through his own dad's death. Miles wished he could do the same for Peter, and Mom said to just keep in touch. So Miles had texted Peter at least once a week, occasionally talking on the phone when he answered the phone. Peter hadn't actually called Miles without any kind of prompting for nearly three months. No way he could ignore it now.

"Hang on, that was Pete, just now."

"Oh yeah, he still coming?"

Mom had talked Mrs. Lee into letting Peter stay with them a few days while he waited for his apartment to become available, since he'd sold Aunt May's place. Ganke had heard that Peter was just as nerdy as them and was interested in meeting someone else to talk tech to.

Miles tapped over to call Peter back. "I thought he was..." The phone rang once or twice and then Peter answered.

"Hey I was just leaving a voicemail."

"No prob. What's up?"

"So, uh..." he paused, and cleared his throat. He spoke fast, excited even. More like the Peter that Miles used to know. "Slight change of plans. Well, maybe more than slight. Yeah? Not that I don't appreciate you and Ganke letting me crash at your place. It's just… MJ's gonna let me stay with her. At her place. I wanted to give you – to let you know."

Miles' jaw dropped. "I thought you guys weren't going out?"

"Yeah, well that changed. I guess. Today?"

That would explain the excitement.

"Okay," Miles drawled trying to process the sudden change. "You still going to want our help moving in to your new place?"

"If I haven't offended you by taking MJ up on her offer?"

Miles blinked. "Pshaw, no. Of course not. Where would you get that idea?"

"I dunno. Something in your voice. See you Saturday."

"See ya," Miles said, and hung up, his face heating. He hadn't meant to let his... distaste for Mary Jane show that much.

Ganke lifted his eyebrows. "He's not coming, is he?"

"Nope." Apparently he got back together with Spider-man's girlfriend. "He, uh... hooked back up with his ex, and is staying with her, instead."

Ganke whistled. "Smooth. Wish I could have that kind of luck."

Miles laughed and steered the conversation back to the issues with the hacking app.

Was she two-timing them? No way Peter knew. He'd have to figure out some way to bring it up on Saturday then. That and the other thing that had been going on with him. He hadn't even been able to bring _that_ up to Ganke.

Miles had a couple of days to think about it and thought he had an idea of how to bring both up when Saturday rolled around.

They'd already moved a few of the bigger pieces carried up the stairs, and Ganke had to run off to meet with the robotics club. Mary Jane was supposed to be joining them after running some errands.

Seemed like the perfect time.

Miles turned after seeing his friend out the door. He grabbed the heavy writing table waiting to be taken upstairs. They still had book shelves and so many boxes. "Hey Pete, now that Ganke's not here, I've been wanting to get some advice about something."

Peter, picked up his side of the desk, backing up the steps. "Yeah, go for it. Problems in school? If you're having trouble with bullies..."

Miles followed Peter up the narrow staircase, past walls covered in peeling wallpaper and windows with frames covered in flaking paint. "Not what you're thinking. See, there's this girl… I like." Miles trailed off, his cheeks heating up. He wasn't lying really. There was a girl. Cute. Blonde hair. Blue-eyed. Way out of Miles' depth.

"Oh." Peter's expressive face twitched as though uncertain. "You realize girls are not my specialty. At all, really."

"Yeah, but this girl, she reminds me a lot about Mary Jane." Except for the whole cheating bitch aspect, Miles kept that thought to himself, though.

"Sure, okay. I see where you're coming from, but… I'd probably be more helpful dealing with bullies." Peter grunted as he turned one of the hundreds of landing they had to take. "Or math. I'm really good with the math," he added in a mutter.

"So I was thinking that since you managed to convince your ex girlfriend to take you back, you'd have some words of advice."

Peter eyed Miles, smacking into the banister on the next landing as he turned. "I'm not sure that there was much 'convincing' on my part. Cause if she hadn't wanted me there, I'd never look pathetic enough to talk her into anything."

Miles laughed as they took the last flight of stairs, door finally in sight. "Seriously? I thought you had some deep secret about girls. I've been wanting to ask Gwen out since school started."

Peter grinned and Miles realized he'd slipped up. "Gwen, huh?" Miles didn't look forward to the teasing that was sure to come. "Well, I'm not an expert or anything, but I think it's in the way that you ask her." Peter kicked the door open behind him with a foot, glancing back so he wouldn't knock the desk into the doorjamb

Miles groaned, trying not to be outdone by his friend. "I think I'm too nervous."

Pete laughed as he looked around the apartment

"Alright, so where do you want this?"

Peter angled his elbow in a vague direction. "Right over here is fine."

Arms aching, Miles could just say, "Right."

They set the table down, and Peter went to slide a chair under the desk as though they had not just climbed fifty billion flights of stairs to his new apartment.

Fifty katrillion stairs had given Miles a chance to phrase how to bring up this... other thing that had been going on. Something he didn't want to talk about in front of his mom, or Mary Jane. Or out in the hallway where anyone could hear.

"Hey, so Pete?" No time like the present, right?

"Yea?" Pete said, a little distracted by the faint whir of sirens on the street below. Not like it was a huge deal, this was New York City, after all.

"I, uh," Miles bounced on his heels, anticipation twisting his gut, "kinda gotta talk to you about something I can't tell my mom about..."

Pete walked away from the window, glancing down to see where the chair had ended up. "What's up?"

"Well, um..." Miles shut the door, so no one else could hear them. "Weird things have been going on. Like, physically."

Pete stared at Miles without a single look of comprehension, as Miles had expected. "Oh." Then Pete's eyes widened, and his head jerked, which Miles had not expected. "Oh!" Pete sucked in a breath, his eyes darting around, "...uh...Well, you know, you're at that age where your body starts to change, and, so, you may be noticing some...areas… for examp-"

WHOAWHOAWHOA! This was not what Miles neither expected nor wanted. "No," he said, sharply cutting Peter off mid lecture. Good god, he didn't need that talk. He went to sex ed for crying out loud! "Not that." Miles looked around, trying to figure out what to do with his hands. "Uhh… think it's… it's better that I just, um, I show you." And he bent his legs and waist, feeling the tightness coiling in his hamstrings.

Pete took a step back, and Miles didn't have to look to see the flash of alarm across the man's face. "No… no no no no-"

For the second time that afternoon, Miles cut Peter off, this time by leaping into the air, managing to thump awkwardly onto the ceiling with all the grace of a duck landing in the muck. One hand stuck to the ceiling, allowing Miles to balance with the other. "It's pretty weird, right?"

Peter reacted nothing like Miles expected. (There should have been a lot more freaking out and maybe even some screaming.) Instead Peter just smiled, bent his knees

_And leapt up to the ceiling across from Miles._

Miles could only stare, his jaw would have been hanging open, except that being upside down, gravity kept it firmly closed, but it didn't wipe the wide grin off his face.

"Not that weird," Peter said, his voice a gentle rush in the ensuing silence.

Miles broke that silence, when, in his surprise, he lost his grip on the ceiling and slammed into the wooden floor.

"Oh shit." Peter dropped (much more gracefully) and helped Miles to his feet. "You okay there buddy?"

Miles grabbed Peter's arm, and words "Y-You're Spider-man. You! The amazing, spectacular-"

Peter set a hand on Miles' shoulder to silence the stream of words spewing out of his mouth. "We've gone over that already. No need for a repeats" Peter grinned, though he hunched his shoulders self-consciously. "You might want to sit down before you fall again," he said, gesturing at the bed in the corner.

Miles flopped down, staring at Peter, and trying to imagine Peter in Spider-man's costume. It wouldn't have fit, except that Miles could remember the muscles that Peter's loose-fitting shirts hid. It looked ridiculous with Peter's face though. Miles dropped his head in his hands, suddenly dizzy. "Hang on a sec. Were you and Mary Jane actually dating this whole time, or what?"

Peter's lips twitched down for a moment. "No, we'd really broken up about nine months ago. She took me back just the other day."

"I thought, I thought…." Miles stammered. "I thought she was two-timing you and-and Spider-man. I was going to tell you..."

Peter's mouth rounded into an 'oh!' expression, then he leaned against the window frame and clutched his sides, bending over as he broke into a fit of helpless laughter. "S-sorry," he said wiping his eyes and visibly struggling to regain himself. "Sorry. I haven't had a good laugh like that… in a while. I'm okay, I'm-" He took a deep breath and lifted his head.

Whatever expression Miles wore on his face at that moment, must have been hilarious.

Because Peter busted out laughing again.

"MJ," Peter said, when he'd _finally _stopped breaking into laughter every time he looked at Miles, "told me something about that the other day." He took a deep breath and sobered up surprisingly quick."Though I have to say, MJ would never try and cheat on me or anyone. She's not that kind of a girl-er woman." He snorted and sat down on the bed next to Miles, his eyes still twinkling."How long has this been going on?" He gestured at Miles, and then the ceiling.

"It kinda started a little while after the uh, plague was cured." He had to remind himself not to bring up Aunt May's death. Last he checked, that was still a sore subject. "I've uh… kinda been playing around with … my abilities I guess. I can't seem to figure out how you make the webs. I try, and nothing happens." He demonstrated, making a fist with his hands.

Peter chuckled, and stuck his hands out, opening his hands and shaking his wrists. "They're not organic. I'm still human, after all."

Miles narrowed his eyes, brow furrowed. He leaned over and examined Peter's hands.

Buttons sat hidden in the creases of Peter's palms, attached by a wire to the devices around his wrist. Both wrists had that weird bracelet, that Miles always figured to be some kind of a fitness device. Glancing at Peter for permission, Miles pressed one of the buttons. "Do those shoot-"

Webbing shot onto Mile's sleeve with the distinctive squeak that always accompanied Spider-man's webslinging.

Miles' jaw dropped and he tugged at the line attached his jacket. It held firm.

"That's designed to hold for a long time. I can break some of it off, and the rest will dissolve in a couple of hours." He put action to words, and yanked some of the webbing off Mile's coat, leaving a few strands floating in the stagnant apartment air.

"Dude, that is so cool!" Miles cleared his throat as his voice broke with his excitement. "How'd you come up with that?"

The grin turned into a smile, and Peter. "Made them myself. The first ones… weren't quite so pretty. They were big and awkward and I had to carry them in my backpack and scramble to get them on." Peter stood, pushing his mop of hair out of his eyes. "I want to continue this conversation, but I don't want to leave my things in the lobby where anyone can grab them. You can join MJ and I for dinner, and we can talk some more."

Miles flinched at the mention of Peter (and Spider-man's!) girlfriend.. He might have to apologize for the way he'd treated Mary Jane. "Wait, do I _have_ to tell MJ about..." his words failed him and he waved at the ceiling.

Peter lifted his brows and shook his head. "That's up to you, Miles. I'll respect your decision, either way. It's not my secret to tell, after all."

Miles gaped for a moment. "You mean that? Really? Thanks Pete! You're the best." Miles bounced to his feet.

Peter, still grinning, clapped Miles on the shoulder. "Any time, Miles. Any time. If you don't want her to know, you're always welcome to come over when I'm home. I'll answer any questions I can."

By the time Miles and Peter got down stairs, Mary Jane had arrived and was carrying a box up the stairs. She grinned at Peter, turning to shoulder block him when he tried to take the box from her. The smile fell when her eyes fell on Miles. His presence didn't stop her from shifting the box out of the way to kiss Peter on the cheek.

Miles stepped closer and relieved her hands of the heavy box. "Hey MJ. Let me take that, Pete doesn't pack light."

Mary Jane jumped, startled and obviously not expecting Miles to take the box from her as she'd expected Peter to. She frowned, looking between the two men, her eyes narrowed and contemplative. "Okay," she drawled. "thanks Miles. But I'm just going to grab another box then."

Miles gave her his most charming grin. "I know. But I got this one." He turned on his heel and dashed back up the stairs. He paused on the next flight up and glanced down at the pair.

Peter murmured into Mary Jane's ear, hand on her elbow, as she looked up at Miles, and a smile crossed her face. She met his eyes, and tilted her chin in a brief nod at him.

Forgiven. Though Miles knew he would still need to actually apologize to her.

Miles would definitely need to reevaluate everything he thought about Mary Jane Watson.

* * *

**Author's Note **I relied on game scenes a lot more in this fic, hopefully enough was added to them to make it worth it.(OH MY GOD I TALK SO MUCH HERE *yammeryammeryammer*)

A couple of things I want to point out:

Per the prequel novel, (Ch. 16! I dug so hard to find the reference again, omg *dances in her seat, quietly on the side*) Peter and MJ's relationship was kept on the down low, no 'public record'. In the same book she tells the people at the Bugle she was his girlfriend (as opposed to his wife). So not a secret.

Peter and Miles interactions are so much fun! Can you tell I had fun?

Should I even continue doing the spoilers warning, who hasn't beaten the game at this point and why would you be reading fanfics if you haven't?

Don't try to follow the recipe Miles and Pete were working on! I don't know if it would work. (I might have mixed

Oh, hey. Did you know there's now a comic based on the game? Looks like a retelling/condensed telling of the main story. The editor's notes states that they're going to include a few missing/extra scenes not in the game. I'm looking forward to seeing what they included compared to what I added (in this particular fic, as I *know* we won't see SpideyJane smut). :D

I recognize that I suck at writing teens.

Pete's next, and even though I've got his story started, I'm not sure how long it'll take me to complete. Could be next week, could be next month. Definitely that story will have more SpideyJane smut.


	3. The Hardest Decisions Ch 1

**Title** The Hardest Decisions

**Series **Tying Up Loose Ends  
**Fandom **Spider-man (Videogame 2018)  
**Summary** The aftermath of Peter's decision at the end of the game. Massive spoilers…. Why are you even reading this if you haven't finished the game?

**Author's Note** Here's Pete's perspective finally. Also still doing that thing where I'm grabbing from scenes in the game. Won't be the last either. Also who else was absolutely frustrated by the damned time skips at the ending. *raises her hand* *proceeds to use timeskips, chortling like a goofball* Upload schedule? What's an upload schedule?

**Tags **Grief, Spidey Whump? Promise it ends happy, Determinator Fail,Accelerated Healing, Not a Healing Factor, Spoilers, Hurt Peter, Peter Parker Needs a Hug

Chapter 1  
The Nightmares Begin

"H-How long will that take?"

Dr. Michaels held a gun aimed at Peter's heart, and shot with surgical accuracy. That was how Peter registered the man's words, like a shot that pierced his sternum and flew through his heart.

"A few hours, maybe a day."

Bang. The breath left Peter's lungs and he couldn't inhale or he'd sob. Spider-man didn't know this woman, and he would have no reason to cry just for her. But Peter wanted to break down and wail. He didn't look at Aunt May, and his voice cracked only a little. "What if we use it to cure someone right now?"

Dr. Michaels shook his head. "Then there won't be enough to cure the others."

Bang.

Peter glanced at the hectic mess on the ground floor of the shelter. All the people, sick and dying from the virus. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Even the constant agony of pain echoed distantly around his body. He couldn't stop looking between the scattered mass and his Aunt. His responsibilities. He had to choose? _He had to choose?!_

_The claw crushed him against the building; robbing Peter of his breath._

Dr. Michaels got up. "I'll give you a few minutes," he said as he left May's office.

The antiserum bottle squeaked in his grip, and he had to look down and force his fingers to relax. He couldn't break it, not now. Not after, everything he'd gone through to get it.

"_I won't let you win. This means too much to me!"_

Aunt May shifted on the bed; awake then.

Spider-man-who didn't know this woman, he had to remind himself- stepped closer, but Peter's voice broke as he tried to comfort her. "You're going to be okay ma'am. I've got the cure right here," he said as he knelt down next to the bed.

Aunt May blinked up at him, complexion pale, skin waxen and eyes hollowed by black circles. "Take off your mask," she said, her voice a weak rasp.

Spider-man drew back a little at that odd request, but her next words struck Peter worse than any blow Octavius had landed. Worse than the accusation of _betraying_ the man he'd respected most.

"I want to see my nephew."

Peter reached up and slid the mask off. He had to compose himself, before he could meet her eyes. "You knew?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she stared up at him, unblinking, as though she had to get her fill of him now or she'd never have another chance. "I've known for a while."

Peter choked back a sob. He had to blink back the tears that blurred his vision. "I never wanted you to worry."

"I did," she said, shooting another pang through Peter's breaking heart. "And I am so proud of you. And Ben would be too. All the people you saved."

Peter grit his teeth, panic making his heart race. "I don't know what to do," he admitted to her, hot tears rolling unhindered down his face.

She blinked at him and her eyes widened. Then her face softened, and she gave him the barest of smiles. "Yes, you do." She broke into a coughing fit, turning away, clutching at her chest, and covering her mouth.

The blood that appeared on her hand drove him to action. Peter shot to his feet, fingers clenching the bottle. He stood before the bag hanging from the pole, the access port in his fist before he knew what he was doing. Then he did know what he was doing, and how could he do that to everyone? To MJ, (MJ!) who needed this vaccine or she'd be next. To Miles. Rio. Gloria. Robby. Betty. Even goddamn Jameson didn't deserve to suffer from the Devil's Breath virus. Save Aunt May at the cost of everyone else?

How could he do that to Aunt May? What would she think if he did that, even though it would be for her? If he saved her at the cost of everyone else in the city, would she hate him? Would it be worth it?

He ached with the need to save his only family member. Without Aunt May, why did Peter need to exist?

Spider-man wouldn't sacrifice so many people to save one.

Only himself.

Letting go of the IV line was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Furious at the fates that laughed down at him, Peter slapped the bottle down, careful not to slam it. Careful not to break it, even in his anger.

Peter went back to his Aunt's side. He dropped to his knees before her, clutching her hand, as he watched the life fade from her body. He sobbed then, harsh and scared. Aunt May's EKG screeched, and it was like he was five years old again, and he'd been told that his mom and dad would never return.

What was he supposed to do now? What need was there for Peter now?

"Peter? Oh god, Peter."

Mary Jane appeared at his side, her hands on his arm, his neck. She hugged him tight, then pulled at his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Pete, but you can't stay."

He shook his head. No…

Don't make him leave May.

"I know," she said her words choked by her own tears. "You can't stay, Pete. Spider-man can't stay. _Peter_ needs to be here. I'll wait here for you, but you have to go." Her head dropped to his shoulder, but she pulled him bodily away from the bed.

He let her. Let her shove his face into the mask. Let her push him toward the window. Let her shove it open. Then push him out.

"We need you here, Pete. Come back as soon as you can."

Spider-man glanced back at her tear-stained face. At the still, lifeless body he'd left behind.

Mary Jane shut the window, pressing her hand against it, before she turned away.

Peter slipped on the wall. Spider-man never slipped. But Peter did. His fingers and feet couldn't find purchase, and he dropped into the trash cans alongside the building.

He lay there, unable to move through the haze of pain all throughout his body. Everything ached, he couldn't breathe without gasping. He couldn't breathe without crying.

Aunt May was dead.

Peter sobbed into his arms lying among trash; body curled over his broken ribs, and the sharp pains in his gut. He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't stay.

What would they do to Aunt May if Peter didn't return. Toss her into a mass grave with other unclaimed bodies?

No no. Not his Aunt May.

He couldn't let that happen. Not to his Aunt May.

Even though he knew MJ would never allow that. He _knew_. But it wasn't her responsibility, was it?

It was Peter's. It was his.

Spider-man pushed himself to his feet, clutching at his aching ribs as they crackled inside him. His clothes were on the roof at the F.E.A.S.T. Center. He just had to get up there. Peter set his fingers against the walls, and climbed up. His shoulder ached where Octavius's claw had impaled him, and the arm didn't respond as it should. He ached everywhere. So much. So tired...

'_You look tired, Parker_'

Spider-man's chest heaved, despite the slicing pain it sent through him. He clung to the side of the building, as though it was the only thing holding him up.

_The arms came after him, snatching him off Otto's back and slamming him into the Oscorp building. He barely held the __pincers__ away from crushing his face, and he strained in spite of the agony that spread through his chest. The metal was wet, slick, slippery __fr__om the pouring rain. He'd only just caught himself when they tumbled off the roof. He couldn't keep a grip on the-_

_He screamed. Pain seared through him as one of the demonic claws bit through the shattered armor._

_Octavius lifted himself into view, sneer on his face. "Oh, Parker. If you want to change the world. You have to be the kind of man to make the hardest decisions."Octavius waved the antiserum in Peter's face, sneer never leaving his lips._

_Peter always had to make the hard decisions, though, right? This was no different. _

Peter came to, with his face pressed against the soaked bricks of the shelter. Laying down. He didn't remember climbing to the top of the building. He shook, the aftershock of his remembered battle pumping adrenaline through his battered body. The mask clung to Peter's wet face, and he couldn't breath through the clinging material.

Should have been faster. Maybe if he hadn't fallen asleep after fighting the Vulture and Electro he could have made it in time. Oh god, why had he allowed that to happen? He shouldn't have closed his eyes, not even for a second.

He could have been in time, if he hadn't been an idiot.

Peter sobbed where he lay, unable to push himself up from the weight that rested on his shoulders..

Aunt May was dead, _and it was all Peter's fault._

He should have saved her. Let the world burn.

Oh god, no. Not that.

May would have hated him, if he'd made that decision for her.

Peter made all the hard decisions. Never in his favor.

He couldn't breathe, his throat closed around every breath.

'_Peter, I saw you as a son. I should've known you'd turn on me. Just like all the others.'_

Peter dug his fingers into the concrete surface of the rooftop. He needed to go back to Aunt May. He couldn't let them toss her like yesterday's trash. Not MJ's responsibility. His.

His.

He didn't know how he made it to the steps, but he knew he had reached them. Knew, because he crashed into the concrete, slamming into the jagged edges and sending a fresh wave of agony through his broken ribs. He couldn't move any farther. Couldn't rise to his feet. His body just, couldn't.

He couldn't make it to May. He'd failed her again.

_Typical Parker luck. Can never save the ones I love. Not even as Spider-man._

Peter kept losing time. He knew someone had carried him inside, he caught flashes of Mary Jane leaning over him. He grabbed at her, had to make sure she was real. She was the only thing he had left, even if he couldn't keep her. Keep her safe.

She didn't want him to keep her safe.

But he could hold onto her now. It was all he had, after all.

Flames roared at Peter's feet. He crouched on the pole, his shirt and pants clinging to him and leaving him freezing in the stinging rain. Not freezing. Burning. The rain burned through his mask and spider suit, erasing Spider-man.

Words roared in Peter's ears, but he couldn't make sense of their meaning. Instead they reverberated in the air pinging off the rain like a badly designed auditorium.

A monster clung to the side of the tower, roaring at Peter, as the tentacles writhed in rage.

The tentacles snapped at him, pincers sharp, and yanked Peter off his perch.

Peter was flying toward the tentacled monster (_Not as much as it means to me!)_ His momentum threw the monster off the tower.

Except it was Aunt May who fell. Aunt May who landed broken and limp. Unresponsive to his screams.

Peter woke in a panic. And he couldn't breathe.

_He couldn't breathe._

"Shhh, shh. It's okay, Pete." Mary Jane's soft voice was the only thing that kept him from jolting upright.

Mary Jane meant he was safe. The vice on his chest relaxed, and Peter could breathe again.

He curled his fingers around the hand in his. He still ached everywhere. Still had trouble breathing, but more like his lungs were already full. He coughed, every spasm driving sharp knives into his sides; phlegm filling his mouth. Something metallic touched his lips, and he followed the soft order to spit out the disgusting mouthful of mucous.

Peter gasped, short shallow breaths after his coughing fit. His head having its own knives stabbing into it from the bright lights. "Oh, I feel awful."

"Pneumonia. On top of _all _your other injuries."

He squinted against the lights, and tried to bring her into focus. "MJ?"

Gentle fingers smoothed his hair back. "I told you I'd wait for you, didn't I?"

He blinked at the ceiling, the hospital lights stinging his eyes. "I was hoping you'd say I had a nightmare."

The fingers stopped, and her hand flattened against his forehead. "Oh, Peter..."

No…

He blinked, tears welling in his eyes. He brought his hand up- Oh... He brought the other hand up that didn't have IVs stuck in his arm, to his face, instead. "Please tell me that's all it was, MJ."

_Tell me my aunt's alive._

"Pete," Mary Jane put a hand on his cheek to wipe away his escaped tears. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could."

He scrunched his eyes close against the lights against the pain. Against the knowledge. "I failed her, MJ. Like I failed Harry. And Uncle Ben."

"Har- Pete, don't be-" She stopped, and when she continued, her tone softened. "Sorry. You didn't fail anyone. You did everything you could. Look at me, please." Her hand pressed his cheek, forcing him to face her. "Please look at me, Pete. Don't-don't shut me out. Not now. Not after-"

The tears in her voice made his eyes open and he couldn't help but look at her.

Tears streaked her cheeks, and her eyes were red from crying, and marred with dark circles as though she hadn't slept. "How long…?"

"A little over a day. You've been really out of it."

A day?

He sat up, even though Mary Jane tried to stop him with hands on his chest. "Where's May?" Sitting up triggered another coughing fit. He clutched at his sides as every cough stabbed into him like knives pointed into his body.

Mary Jane pressed her lips together, but heaved a sigh. "In the city morgue. Waiting for you."

"Oh."

She still pressed her hands against his chest, trying to urge him back down. "Will you lay back down now?"

Peter obliged, letting Mary Jane ease his sore body back onto the thin mattress of the hospital bed.

She pulled her hand away, smoothing her fingers over his shoulder before she jerked her hand away, as though she realized the contact was too familiar for friends. Instead she went back to stroking his hair. The fingers of her other hand curled tightly around his limp hand.

Peter closed his eyes, exhausted. "Thanks, MJ."

She nudged his cheek with her thumb. "What are friends for?"

"Tired."

Mary Jane squeezed his hand, and ran her thumb over his eyebrow. "Sleep I'll be here when you wake up. Promise."

At least in the darkness, he didn't feel pain.

Only the nightmares that his subconscious conjured up.

Mary Jane had been there when Pete woke up, as she'd promised, but she'd had to go to the Bugle and work. She'd apparently called in reinforcements to cover her absence because Rio showed up at some point.

Rio had brought a card and flowers, though she said they were from both her and Miles. Miles was working at the shelter, helping with the distribution of the antiserum with Dr. Michaels.

Rio sat at his bedside, her eyes knowing and sad, full of pity. She started the conversation, and when Peter couldn't bring himself to answer, she talked about Miles, (a favorite subject from how she went on about his grades and his club activities.

Peter lay awake, aching in heart and body, but he didn't look at her.

He'd cried when Rio came in, because lilies were Aunt May's favorite flower. Rio hadn't realized the cause of his tears, and Peter hadn't been able to bring himself to voice the reason. Now he didn't have any energy for any. Not conversation, not company.

He just wanted to get out of here and go…

Well, he didn't know where he would go. He didn't have a job anymore (was the lab even still there?). He didn't have an apartment. He couldn't ask to stay at MJ's because she was not his girlfriend, and she was way too busy with work after the past couple of weeks for him to add to her burden. He knew where his suit was, at least.

Peter blinked the tears out of his eyes, because he had a suit, and that was all that was left to him.

"Peter," Rio said, "you're welcome to talk to me, if it would make you feel better. You don't have to, but I'm here for you."

Peter clutched at his ribs, suppressing the coughing fit that always felt like it would tear his body in half. Even so he managed to choke out an "I'm fine."

Rio's brows lifted, but she nodded her acceptance of his wish. "If you're certain..."

Peter closed his eyes, and tried to feign sleep, but he'd been in the hospital bed for two days now, and was getting restless. Mary Jane was going to bring his change of clothes (so he didn't walk around with a bloody shirt) and then he was going to discharge himself from the hospital. With everything still going on in the city and in the aftermath of Devil's Breath epidemic, Peter figured they weren't going to object. He couldn't stay, he didn't have, oh say Deadpool's healing factor, but the doctors were sure to notice the difference a day or two made for him.

Leave the hospital, and-

_Don't look at the lilies._

He scrunched his eyes shut, unable to feign sleep as he remembered what waited for him out there.

_Nothing._

Nothing, but a suit and his stupid, useless sense of responsibility, at least.

(..._I'm so proud of you. And Ben would be too...)_

"Peter?"

The concern that tinged Rio's voice made Peter open his eyes again.

Her brown eyes regarded him, and she half stood from the chair she'd been sitting in. "Are you okay, Peter. You're shaking?"

Peter nodded, but when that only made her brows furrow more and her lips thin to a nearly imperceptible line. "I'm okay," he choked. Then he turned away from her and gave into that coughing fit he'd been trying so hard to suppress, which sent jagged knives all throughout his chest.When another clump of phlegm sat in the metal bowl on the bedside tray, and his chest stopped spasming, Peter looked up to see Rio regarding him quietly.

"Peter, I know it's might seem too soon, but you shouldn't bottle everything up. It's not healthy, and you have people who are worried about you." She paused. "I feel like you might have talked more with Miles than I've managed to get out of you. Even if it would have only been about whatever gadgets he was working on. He wanted to be here, but he knew how important the antiserum was to distribute."

Peter turned away from Rio. He didn't need to burden her with his problems, wasn't getting MJ involved bad enough? He couldn't even have told her everything. Couldn't tell her how he had killed Aunt May, or how he had almost killed the city to save his Aunt. Talk? Like to a therapist? Even they couldn't know Peter's secret. "I'm fine," he told her.

"I'm certain that you will be," she replied firmly. "Mary Jane isn't going to let you be otherwise. She's a keeper, Peter. I understand that you used to date? Whatever fight you had must not have been that bad, if she's willing to stand by your side at a time like this."

Rio's words did nothing to soothe the ache in Peter's heart. Mary Jane didn't want him, after all. He thought he understood why. But he couldn't help himself, he'd always protect Mary Jane. Even when she didn't want it. Knowing this only meant that Rio's words twisted like the sharp stab of Fisk's blade in his guts, the Vulture's claws piercing his chest. He could try to protect Mary Jane, but would he end up letting her down as he had Aunt May.

Rio glanced at her phone and sighed. "I do need to get going. I really wish I could stay. I can have Miles reach out to you later. You just let me know if he pesters you too much."

Peter blinked at that, and frowned, his brows furrowed. "Miles isn't a bother." He would never want the kid to think that.

Rio's forehead wrinkled with the height her eyebrows lifted. "That's good to hear. I'm sure I won't need to encourage him to call you." She squeezed Peter's shoulder. "You call me if you need anything, sweetie. I'll let Mary Jane know that I'm leaving and I'm sure she'll be back as soon as she can."

"You don't have to-"

"Mary Jane doesn't agree with you. And I think she's right. You shouldn't be alone, right now, Peter." Rio glanced at her phone again, her lips pressed together. She clicked her tongue and left. Which left Peter in the hospital room, with the lilies sitting on the table next to his bed.

He rubbed at the edge of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, but couldn't stop the tears.

Aunt May was dead.

He hadn't just let her die: he'd killed her.

Peter inhaled between his teeth in a deep breath, cut off by another coughing fit. He couldn't stay. He needed to get out of here.

Peter started pulling lines out of his veins and peeling wires off his body.. He wouldn't have been leaving with prescriptions anyways, and he had no idea how he'd handle the hospital bill either. So he had no real reason to stay.

The nurses argued, but couldn't stop him, not really. He got his clothes from them and walked out of the hospital. He'd swung with worse. Pneumonia was no stranger to him, either.

He needed to do something.

Getting his suit was a start.

"_Peter if you don't turn your ass around and check back into the hospital, I will hunt you down and beat you senseless._"

"_Are you screening your calls? Not cool. You couldn't have waited four more hours? Goddammit, why can't you make anything easy for me?"_

"_Pete, please call me back or text me? Please! I'm really worried about you._"

"_You got your suit? Seriously? God, your priorities are so skewed. You are so dead when I find you."_

_If this were me disappearing like this, you'd have grabbed me off the street and swung off with me. Don't deny it! -_ MJ

_Not even one word, just to let me know you're okay? :( _\- MJ

Peter clicked the phone screen off, and stuck it in his pocket. He'd found May's key in his pants when he'd put them on. Then realized he did have somewhere to go.

So he went to Queens.

He'd been standing outside his Aunt's town home for fifteen minutes. The tinny yard needed to be trimmed, and the flower box stood empty for the coming winter. His shirt didn't do anything to keep the cold out and the bloodstains earned him long stares from passersby. He'd forgotten it was November. He hadn't wanted to put the costume on, even with its built in heater. He couldn't. Not yet.

Spider-man had failed to save the person who meant everything to Peter.

Tears pricked his eyes, and he didn't want to start crying in the middle of the street.

So he went inside.

It was like coming home.

Better, honestly. His apartment was always a mess, and had become a source of stress trying to keep the place from falling apart around him, and the constant hassle of keeping rent up to date. To keep the electric and water on. To keep the heater pumping because the landlord would take forever if Peter waited on him to fix it. May's home had always been a sanctuary from Peter's day to day, even when he was a kid, then a teen learning how to be a superhero.

He shut the door, and the sound echoed in the empty room.

Suddenly home seemed a lot darker than he ever remembered. Bereft of its soul. The warmth.Robbed of May Parker.

Oh god, this had been a mistake.

He collapsed onto the couch, buried his face in his hands and broke into the tears he had been resisting in the hospital, heedless of the ache that bloomed from his ribs, of the coughing fit that tore into his throat between sobs.

Green wings cast a shadow over the F.E.A.S.T. Circling, always circling.

Peter could see the shadow through the walls of the building, knew when those giant wings passed over him like a jolt down his spine. Peter wandered F.E.A.S.T.'s empty hallway, drawn to the stairwell in the corner.

He stumbled over Gloria on the stairs. Dead. But she glared at him accusingly with her vacant eyes.

Hodges was on the next flight of stairs and Ernie at the top. All of them stared at him, and hissed their accusations, whispers in his ears that didn't move their dead lips.

He stumbled over Mary Jane next to May's office. He wanted to scream, that he hadn't meant for this to happen. Wanted to shout his denials.

'_You got 'em, tiger,' _she whispered, '_all of them. Your fault.'_

Peter dashed into May's office.

She didn't look up from her work on the computer. She didn't look up until he stood next to her desk, and was reaching out for her.

Her eyes snapped up, but they were dead eyes, accusing eyes. "Look what you've done, Peter," she hissed.

The Vulture smashed through the roof and sank his claws into Peter's heart. He hauled Spider-man up and showed him the dead city. The whole while the Vulture laughed at Peter's arrogance.

Peter sat up when someone knocked at the door. He blinked, looking around the dark room. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. The evening had changed to morning at some point. He'd spent hours last night trying to find the warm soul of the house, the familiar comfort that meant home. He'd spent the other hours wrapped in a nightmare of rage and hurt, lost on a cold, rainy night, or holding the cold hand of the person he loved most.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

Someone sounded a little angry.

"You'd better open up if you're in there, Peter!"

Oh.

Peter got to his feet and went to open the door for MJ, stretching the tingles out of his neck. The short trip to the door left him breathless, and his knees weak. His skin crawled from the back of his neck down to the hand that turned the door handle.

He caught the fist she threw at his face. Then the other one.

"You jerk!" She yanked her hands free of his grip, and then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. "Don't do that again, Pete, please! I was so worried you'd disappeared on me."

Peter wheezed from her impact. He broke into an explosive coughing fit, his knees sagging against Mary Jane. Even in the midst of hacking his lungs he could see of her tear streaked face. Her tears made him want to cry, too. Or maybe that was the sharp pain in his ribs. He couldn't stop this round of coughs, his hand over his mouth.

Why was he always such a disappointment to everyone?

Mary Jane yanked herself away with a startled gasp, staring up at him, her face stricken. "Oh my god, Pete. I'm so sorry. Are you still hurting?" She grabbed his shirt, like she was going to yank it up, but then she froze.

She'd seen the apartment behind him.

"Wh-" Mary Jane let go of his shirt and stepped past him.

Coughing fit over, or at least suppressed for the moment, Peter took the opportunity to close the door, gently at odds with the tangle of emotions that raged inside of him. He turned to follow Mary Jane's path through the apartment with his eyes. He didn't look at what caught her attention, he already knew what she'd find.

"What happened-" she turned and broke her question off. She headed back to where he stood. "Pete, do you want to sit down?" she spoke slow, cautiously, her eyes never leaving his.

He followed her ginger touches that guided him to the couch and obediently sad down.

He didn't look at the dining room. He didn't want to see the wreck that had become of the table and chairs.

She sat down next to him, and took his hand between hers, squeezing so that he would look at her. "Why did you come here?"

He stared at her. "Shouldn't I be here?"

Mary Jane squinted at him. "Considering that when I popped by your apartment it was actually clean. By which I mean cleaned out, and the door had been ripped off the hinges. You okay?"

He flinched from her question. Okay? "I just needed to take care of- A-a-and the apartment, is, well..."

"Got ransacked by lowlifes during the crisis no doubt? You gonna need any help getting your stuff back again?"

Peter blinked and shook his head. "No. No. I'm not worried about that. Got the most important things. Probably going to just stay here for a while. Get things straight. You know?"

Mary Jane's eyes traveled over Peter's shoulder, to the dining area "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Peter's eyes dropped to MJ's hands over his and he shrugged, pulling at the . "Why not?"

Mary Jane squeezed his fingers again, her eyes flicking over the apartment. "I don't like that you're by yourself. Here. By yourself." She took a shaky breath. "So, when's the last time you ate?"

Peter's sluggish thoughts had to process before he could come up with a proper response. "Um." Great going, brain.

"Right." Mary Jane bounced to her feet. "Let's see what's in the kitchen."

Peter sat back, tapping his fingers against his knees as Mary Jane bustled around Aunt May's kitchen. Exhaustion had settled into his bones from just walking to the door and back again

He could almost imagine that it was May working on… whatever meal it was. He didn't even know what time it was. Peter figured it might be a good idea to fix the dining room table, or May would be- Oh. Right.

A hand touched his shoulder, and pulled him into tender arms. Mary Jane held him as he cried; he hadn't even realized he'd started crying until his head rested on her shoulder, and she clutched his shirt in her fists.

He became aware at some point of her wet cheeks against his neck, her hair brushing his face. Peter sat up, wiping at his eyes. "S-sorry."

Mary Jane handed him a tissue from her bag. She used another on her own face and blew her nose. "You know, I seem to remember something being said about us being friends, and that not all baggage is bad. I'm here for you, Pete. Cry on my shoulder anytime, really."

From the look on her face, the smile he tried for didn't quite come across.

"So she had sub rolls, and deli meat and cheese so I made a couple of heroes." She got up and brought the plate back, handing him one of the subs. "What happened to the table, and the chairs?"

Peter fiddled with the sandwich in his hand. He could smell the mustard on the bread. May always put mayonnaise on it, forgetting he started preferring mustard during college, instead. Mary Jane always remembered. "They, uh, broke?"

She furrowed her brows. "On their own, huh?"

"Um. Yes?"

She snorted. "Okay. So, I know this is hard for you, but have you thought about what you need to do next?"

Peter still hadn't taken a bite out of the sandwich, his stomach gurgled, but he didn't really feel hungry. "Next?"

"The funeral? Are you going to bury May? Um, and there's all her stuff, what are you-" she broke off, and touched his hand. "Hey. I'm sorry. Take a deep breath, Pete. We can deal with one thing at a time. That's fine."

Peter set the sandwich down, trying to remember to breath. In. Out. He ran his hand through his hair. "Ugh. I don't-"

"Shh. Let's start with burying Aunt May, okay? I'll help you."

Mary Jane did just that, pulled out her laptop and had him call a funeral home and make arrangements.

Peter wouldn't have known what he would have done without her.


	4. The Hardest Decisions Ch 2

Chapter 2  
Picking Up the Pieces

The funeral was small, Peter couldn't afford to do much with his absolute zero finances available. Mary Jane stayed at his side through the whole thing and Miles stood on the other side with his mother.

The early morning fog blanketed the entire event, soaking into the already cold ground, into the threadbare suit that he'd kept at his Aunt's house. The day matched Peter's mood, dreary without a single beam of light to shine down on the grave that now sat next to Uncle Ben's. Not even the simple flower arrangements brightened the space up.

Peter wouldn't be able to remember the words the priest had given for Aunt May, or who exactly came. Her neighbors, he knew, and people from the shelter. Maybe even Gloria? MJ's Aunt Anna? They stopped by him afterwards; pat his shoulder, gave their condolences. Offered their assistance if he needed it. He thanked them, words squeezing out of his throat tight with unshed tears. He'd cried enough during the funeral and in the last week. Hadn't he?

Miles had stood silently throughout as the other guests had passed by with their condolences. Peter, even in the haze of focus on the grave markers above his Aunt and Uncle, was acutely aware of the young man fidgeting next to him. Even more so then he tracked Mary Jane's stillness on his right. Every motion from Miles crawled across Peter's awareness and shivered down his spine. Any other time Peter knew he would be trying to find out why his Spidey-sense was on the fritz. As it was it took all his focus not to give in to the tears burning at the corners of his eyes and to keep his breathing even. Mary Jane, with her tight grip on his fingers helped to keep his feet on the ground and not swallowed by the void that had beckoned him since that first night at May's house.

Miles' hand on his shoulder only made his neck itch, but he didn't want to brush off the young man. Not with the weight of responsibility that Peter had felt for the death of Officer Davis still twisting inside. Or the genuine fondness he felt for the boy who reminded Peter so much of himself.

The Morales family were the last to leave, Rio standing over by and talking to Mary Jane just out of earshot, even Peter's.

"I'm sorry I didn't visit while you were in the hospital."

Peter shrugged at Miles' soft apology, his eyes never leaving the graves. "You were helping with the distribution of the antiserum. That was really important and you have nothing to be sorry for. M-May wou-would-" Peter clamped his lips shut, unable to finish the sentence.

Miles sniffed and the corners of his mouth trembled, and his brow furrowed. "I'm...so sorry, Pete." He stuck his hands in his pockets and curled his shoulders up to his ears. "It's stupid. I just want to tell you the same stupid things that everyone told me when dad died."

Peter could see the tears in the boy's eyes and it made Peter feel bad. "It's okay," was all he could think of saying. Miles shouldn't feel like anything he said was stupid, or meaningless. Peter knew. "I know exactly what you mean. Thanks." Peter couldn't manage a smile though, not when he'd just put his last living relative in the cold, hard ground. Not after he'd failed Aunt May.

"Peter," Rio said as she approached them with Mary Jane tagging behind, "I'm glad to see you doing so well. You look much better than the last time I saw you."

Mary Jane's lips pinched into a frown.

"Bed rest does more than most people think." Peter said with another shrug.

Rio swept a critical eye over him. "You know you can call, if you need anything?"

"I'll do that," Peter replied, mechanically.

Mary Jane's frown thinned her lips until they almost disappeared.

Miles rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek. "Are you going- Are you staying in Manhattan still?"

"No," he couldn't stay in the city that had claimed May. He couldn't swing around the city knowing that May wouldn't have kind words or a hot meal waiting for him at F.E.A.S.T. He couldn't swing around the city knowing Spider-man had failed so many people. His heart thudded in his ears, but he realized that Miles still looked at him and Rio still waited patiently. "I-I'm staying at my Aunt's place in Queens. There's things-I have things I need to take care of there."

"Oh..." Miles said the word drawling in disappointment. "Can I call… or text. Texting is less intrusive, right?"

"Of course." Peter blinked as he processed Miles words. "You're never intruding."

A smile flicked across Rio's face, soft and grateful. She stepped up to give Peter a hug, and told Miles to bid Peter and Mary Jane good bye and then the two left.

Mary Jane stepped up next to Pete, her eyes searching his face. "So we're going back to your Aunt's house?" She sighed gustily at his nod, but didn't say anything else.

Mary Jane followed him back to Queens, her hand tucked in his as natural as can be. They picked up dinner on the way, neither wanting to cook.

Mary Jane narrowed her eyes at the dining room table still laying where he'd left it in scattered, broken pieces from the pique of rage his first night in the house. She didn't comment on the mess still being there, or the flat sheet spread over the couch.

They sat on sheet that covered the couch, and ate the takeout they'd picked up. Mary Jane turned on the television, claiming the place was too quiet for her. They ate in companionable silence, Mary Jane on her phone, while Peter watched the news on the television. He hadn't paid attention to the news in a while. Convicts still held entire city blocks under their thumbs in Manhattan. The police still monitored travel to and from the island, to keep any of them from escaping. Checkpoints on the roads and in the subway stations. Peter had been subjected to a very thorough search that had still managed to miss the secret pocked sewn into the back of his bag where the costume would sit.

"Today, or tomorrow?" Mary Jane asked suddenly, putting her fork in the remaining rice.

Peter slurped his noodles down and shot her a baffled look.

"The funeral is done. I promised we'd take it one step at a time, but it's okay if you're not ready today. I can come back tomorrow. You need to get things taken care of before it's too late."

Peter groaned, folding his hands over his head. "What's next?"

"We need to finish going through the finances, so you can get her estate in order."

"Tomorrow. I can't deal with anything else right now."

Mary Jane nodded. "Sure. Do you want me to stay for a little bit?"

Peter shook his head. Mary Jane had spent everyday the past week helping him with funeral arrangements and organizing May's papers and sorting through her finances. He didn't need her spending every waking moment watching over him. He couldn't do that to her. Not again.

"Going out tonight?"

"No." Where did she think he'd be going?

"Okay," she drawled. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Pete."

She left then.

Peter stared at the remainder of the take out. He put it in the fridge, only because it would mean he didn't have to figure breakfast out in the morning. He stared at the television when he sat back on the couch. He wasn't paying attention to the sitcom on the screen, but he didn't have the energy to get up and turn it off.

So he left it on.

_'SPIDER-MAN MISSING? Masked Vigilante KIA during Devil's Breath incident?'_

Peter blinked at the headlines of the Daily Bugle shoved into his face as soon as he'd opened the door for Mary Jane.

"I told you," she said as she shut the door behind her, "Spider-man would be missed if you waited too long." She glanced at the television as she sat on the couch, and her eyes narrowed. "Did you change the channel at all?"

"I'm not really watching it. It's just noise." He glanced at the paper folded in Mary Jane's hand but looked away at the sight of the Spider-man shot on the front page.

"So, it's been three weeks now. I'm kinda surprised you've not been out. It's really not healthy for you to stay cooped up like this." She leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder. "Something going on in that head of yours that you wanna talk about? I thought Spider-man meant a lot to you?"

Peter hid his frown under the guise of scratching at the scruff on his chin. He hadn't shaved since the day of the funeral. It seemed pointless to go to so much effort for no reason. Spider-man had been his reason.

"Pete?"

Peter's hand went to his knee, when he noticed it bouncing. "May knew," he said, voice raw.

Mary Jane's jaw went slack and her eyes wide. "_Knew?_"

Peter clenched his eyes shut, and nodded, but shed the tears that always seemed at the ready anyways. "Spider-man failed her, and she knew he would. That I would."

Mary Jane hissed a breath.

"Spider-man hasn't been able to keep anyone safe. He puts everyone I'm close to in danger." Peter wiped at his mouth, trying to give himself a moment to compose his emotions. To stop the damned tears. "In another month no one will bother to remember Spider-man, and that's for the best. Spider-man," the word may have been spat out with some vehemence, "hasn't been able to save the people closest to me." Ben, Harry, Li, Octavius. May. He'd failed all of them. He'd failed every person who had died of the plague because he hadn't acted in time. Who had died in the convict riots, because he'd been too naive to realize what Octavius had become until it was too late.

"Everyone in Manhattan right now is alive because of Spider-man, Pete. How can you even think that? God, Pete, how many times have you saved me? What is going on in that head of yours?" She slammed the paper down on the coffee table and jabbed a picture at the photo. "Spider-man is our hope- my hope. Even though I hadn't seen you in six months, I always knew that Spider-man was out there and that you would _be there_ when I needed you." She rolled her eyes, bright with tears. "Or when I didn't need you, even. Spider-man has _been there_ for so many people when they needed him. Pete," Mary Jane's fingers dug into his arm. "_you've_ been there when people have needed you and it gave them hope. You can't tell me Aunt May wasn't proud of what you did."

_'And I am so proud of you. And Ben would be too. All the people you saved."_

Spider-man knelt at Aunt May's bedside and watched his last remaining family die. The cure sat on the table nearby, but he couldn't reach for it. He'd lose her either way. The heart monitor's flatline a constant screech in his ears.

Peter curled away from Mary Jane, not seeing her or the town home. He stared into despair.

_'Peter, I saw you as a son. I should have known you'd turn on me just like all the others.'_

_Turn? All he had to do was pull, and he could have gotten away from the black glove wrapped around his arm. But he hoped. He _hoped_. The rain drizzled through the hole in the side of the building, leaving a puddle on the tiled floor. Soaking into Peter's broken suit as he hissed back at his hero. I worshipped you! The cold ate into his very bones, and still he hoped. He remembered Octavius as he used to be. That Peter had always wanted to be._

_"That's because men like us have a duty. A responsibility. To use our talents in the service of others. Even if they don't appreciate it… we have to do what's best for those beneath us. Whether they understand it or not."_

_Denials screamed out of Peter's throat._

_The black glove reached for Peter. The man begged; pleaded that he was redeemed, he would do it better..._

_"I can fix it. We can fix it… together. If you'll help me."_

_Hope bloomed again. Of course. Spider-man helped people._

_"No. If they put me away they'll take my arms. I'll be trapped in this useless body. Please, Peter. That… wasn't me. You said you'd never abondon me. You promised, remember? And of course you'll rest easy knowing your secret is safe with me." The man _lied.

Peter pressed his hands against his ears, but he couldn't keep out the scream that rattled around his head. He struggled to breathe, trying to follow Mary Jane's soft orders to breathe in and out, mixed in with assurances that he was safe and she was there.

Her hand on his shoulder pulled him toward her and he found himself again with his head on her chest, her arms wrapped around him, her voice in his ear. He shook, trying to feel warm again, trying to remember he was no longer in that rain-soaked suit watching his hero morph into a monster. It sat in his room, dropped a corner, as broken as he felt.

Peter wrapped his arms around Mary Jane, and cried again. His hero had morphed into a monster right under his nose, and he had done nothing to prevent it. Spider-man hadn't been able to save him. He'd helped to make the monster. He helped to create the machine that drove Octavius mad. He'd killed the man he'd admired. Him. His fault.

"Peter, sometimes a person has to save their self. Sometimes they can't be saved at all. Sometimes they don't want to be saved. That's not your fault." Her jaw jiggled against his head as she spoke where it rested against his hair. Weirdly comforting. A reminder of better times.

A better memory than the one that sank its claws into his head every night for the past few weeks.

A reminder that Mary Jane wasn't his anymore. So Peter straightened, wiping his eyes on the collars of his shirt. He cleared his throat. "Sorry. That was inappropriate."

She poked his chest, playfully, but the smile on her face had hard edges, and her eyes were hurt. "If you keep apologizing for crying on my shoulder, you're going to make me think you were lying when you said we were friends."

Peter rubbed the back of his head. Even joking, he didn't want her to think that. "Thank you?" he tried.

"Mm. Better. You're welcome." Her eyes swept over the dining room as they always did at some point during her visits these past three weeks. "So, are you ready for the next step?"

Peter leaned away from her words, not following her gaze. He groaned and covered his face. "Yeah. What is it?"

Mary Jane reached across the space between them on the couch and rested a hand on his arm. "This is going to be hard, Pete."

Peter dropped his head, rolling the tense muscles at the point where his neck joined his shoulders. "You make it sound like it's all been so easy, MJ."

"Oh god, Pete, I'm sorry. I know it hasn't. None of this is easy." She fidgeted, as though she didn't know what to do with her hands; they bounced from her lap, wrung together, played with her ponytail. "So, what's your plan for this place? You staying in Queens now?"

Peter groaned again. "I don't know. Where else would I go?"

Her shoulders jumped with a sudden laugh. "Back to the apartment, silly, assuming they haven't rented it to someone else."

He couldn't help but groan again. "Don't want to go back to the city, yet. You still haven't said what's next?"

Mary Jane's hands settled; clasped in her lap. "Peter, that's next. Are you going to keep May's place?"

Peter's head shot up. "What? Of course!"

Reality crashed into him at the same time Mary Jane asked.

"Can you afford it?"

Peter had gone through May's finances, and Mary Jane had been there with him.

Mary Jane also knew his finances, which were terrible even six months ago with a stable job.

"No," he admitted, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. He was going to lose everything that belonged to Aunt May too. He blinked away the tears, so tired of the constant crying. Everyday seemed to reopen the wound in his heart torn by her death. He just wanted to pull his hair out with frustration at the pile of garbage on constant fire that was his life at any point it seemed since that damned spider had bitten him at Oscorp.

Typical Parker luck.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Mary Jane told him softly, her eyes filled with pain.

"Not your fault that my life absolutely sucks," he said, catching a sob in his throat. He took a deep breath, air hissing between his teeth. When he exhaled he the sob had cleared out, though his eyes still burned with the unshed tears. "Thank you, MJ. For everything."

Though her eyes still held the pain and tears from earlier, she still tried to give him an encouraging smile.

It soothed the edges of the wound in his heart.

He tried for a smile back, shutting out the memory of better times when he used to be allowed to kiss those pink, raspberry-flavored lips. He'd spent too much time trying to smooth things over with her after finding her in Fisk's auction house. Now he didn't have the energy to even try.

But being with her was a balm to his broken spirits; he just wished he didn't have to be such a burden to her all the time. He appreciated that she was even still willing to be there for him.

Her fingers brushed his shoulder, but she stood and wandered into May's kitchen.

He doubted he'd ever be able to think of this place as his own, it would always be May's. Which might be as good a reason not to keep it, as not being able to afford the place.

"All you have left in here are the ramen noodles I brought last week. Have you even been eating?"

"When I think about it."

"Well, I'm not eating ramen. I had enough of that in college. How about you get cleaned up, and we'll go grab something? My treat," she added when he'd opened his mouth to object. "We can talk about this place and what you'd want to do. You could, if you'd like, hop on my laptop and look for a job, maybe? Maybe you could find something that'll let you keep Aunt May's place."

He groaned, running his fingers over his head. "Isn't that cheating? I thought we were dealing with things one at a time?"

Mary Jane poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled sweetly. "That was for dealing with Aunt May. This is about you."

Peter decided that a shower would be better than that. So he got up and located a reasonably clean set of clothes and hopped in the shower. At least when he cleaned, it his sad excuse for a beard didn't itch.

When he came out Mary Jane stood up from pushing the remains of the dining room table off to one side. She tilted her head and narrowed eyes at him, or specifically his face. Probably his scraggly beard, she'd always hated when he'd try to grow facial hair. Then again so did he, normally. Beards did not do well in full facial masks. Especially ones with all the little components he'd put in the Spidey mask.

His eyes slid over the newspaper MJ had left on the coffee table. No Spidey. No MJ. So it didn't matter if he grew a beard.

She made him put on a scarf and had dug a sweater out of the closet in his old room. Peter followed Mary Jane out the door.

The chill November air greeted him as he stepped out the door. The sky bloomed with reds and oranges, the clouds painted across the sky like some artist's brush had gone over the horizon. The similarity to the awful week when the city had been on fire was too much for Peter. Any other time, last month, even, he would have appreciated walking with MJ with such a beautiful sunset making her skin glow, and her red hair blaze like the setting sun. He slid his gaze away from her and the sunset.

Peter followed Mary Jane to Subhaven where they got sandwiches with too much bread (Mary Jane made him eat two), and she dragged answers out of him as only a reporter could do. As only Mary Jane could drag answers out of him.

She walked him back to Aunt May's house and left him with a hug at the door so she could take the subway back to Manhattan.

Peter shut and locked the door, watching her go down the street through the large picture window. The urge to change into the costume and follow her (to make sure she made it safely) pressed on his chest and heart. The broken pile of chairs and tables brought him to a halt when he went to grab the bag with the suit.

He would need to clean that up, if he was going to sell the house. Fix the holes he'd put the wall, sweep up the broken glass from the pictures that used to hang on the wall until. His fingers trembled, and he swept upstairs and into his room instead and looked around at the remnants of his old life with his Aunt May.

He hadn't been in his room since he'd walked inside the house. He'd forgotten about the stupid monkey alarm that Uncle Ben had given him back in middle school. The collection of horse figures that Aunt May would pick up whenever she could find a new one he didn't have yet. She'd even left the electronics he'd scavenged in the crate under his old desk.

She'd made his bed, though. He would never have left it so neat when he was living here. The poorly made, threadbare quilt still topped his comforter. He sat down on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. The patchwork, mismatched colors that hurt the eyes to look at. When Aunt May had tried her hand at something crafty and he'd snatched the end result before she could trash it in frustration. Peter stroked the quilt, his head jerking when tears dripped onto his fingers.

Peter curled up on his bed, his face buried in the quilt clenched in his hands. Crying harder as he realized it still smelled like Aunt May's detergent.

Peter looked up from the neat little stitches he was putting in one of the spare pants he'd found in the closet of his old room. He didn't know which was more unbelievable, all the junk he'd left behind in his room or the fact that May had kept everything right here. Then again, he'd always meant to return and grab more stuff, but it never seemed to be a high enough priority between twelve or fourteen hour shifts at Dr. Octavius' lab, MJ and Spider-man. Even when it became just the stupidly long hours at the lab and Spider-man he couldn't find the time to pick up his stuff. Aunt May never complained about wanting the room cleared for her own use, or when he'd had to come back for various reasons usually relating to his poor finances.

Knocking at the door drew him out of the spiral that yawned under his feet.

Peter went to let in the only person who would bother to come around.

Mary Jane stepped inside, her eyes flicking immediately to the dining room, and then touching on the other areas. She lifted her brows at him. "Making a lot of progress, I see."

Peter hummed, not having to look around to see that everything was the same as it had been the last fifteen times. "To be fair, I've been working upstairs first."

"Mm-hmm. Well look, I can't stay long tonight. I was going to drag you out tonight and see if I can talk you into company on Christmas."

"Christmas?" Peter pat his pockets, and realized he'd left his phone upstairs. "What day is it?"

"December tenth."

"Holy shit. Where'd November go?" MJ had brought him a turkey leg from her Aunt's house during Thanksgiving. Was that really nearly two weeks ago?

Mary Jane's smile belied the sad eyes she turned on him. "Yeah, sorry I haven't been able to visit as often as I'd like. I still don't like that you're here. Have you checked on your apartment yet?"

"No."

"Have you even left the house since I visited last week?"

"No?"

Mary Jane rolled her eyes and walked past him, her hand zipped out and shoved the back of his head. "Ugh."

Peter let that happen, and then scratched at his still scraggly itchy beard. Another reason he hated growing beards was that his beard never wanted to come in properly. December 10th? He'd missed Thanksgiving, but he couldn't (shouldn't) expect Mary Jane to drag him out of his depression all the time. (Again) That guilt prompted him to grab his phone from upstairs and when he came out of his old room he found Mary Jane had followed him up and was now hugging herself in front of the closed door to Aunt May's room.

A line of tears slid down her cheeks, and her arms squeezed around herself. She glanced at him, and sniffed, wiping her eyes on her coat sleeve. "I miss her, Pete."

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, his eyes on his feet, tears wetting his eyes. "Me too." Don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry. He was so tired of crying. He wanted to give MJ a hug, but he'd probably start crying if he did. He also wasn't entirely sure she'd let him give her the hug she looked like she needed. She didn't have a problem with putting her arms around him, but he knew it didn't necessarily mean she'd be okay with him doing the same. Women were so incomprehensible.

She sniffed and turned to him. "You almost ready?"

"Just heading downstairs for my coat and shoes." He put action to words and headed down the stairs.  
Mary Jane joined him downstairs when he'd gotten his shoes and grabbed his coat out of the closet under the stairs. All evidence of tears had been wiped from her cheeks, but she couldn't have done much about her puffy eyes.

She took Peter to Nick's Pizza and ordered a pie that she only had three slices from. Peter hadn't realized how hungry he was until the pie sat in front of him. He'd gotten through his third slice while she picked through the side salad she'd ordered for herself when she finally spoke.

"Rio reached out to me. She says you've been keeping in touch with Miles?"

Peter hastily swallowed the delicious mouthful of cheese, sauce and crust so he could answer. "Yeah. He's been texting me. I've been helping him with homework, and he was telling me about his science fair project."

She smiled, and took a bite of her second slice of pizza. "I'm glad. I was worried that you weren't talking to anyone in the 'outside world' besides me." She curled her fingers into air quotes in what he recognized as an attempt to lighten his mood.

Peter lifted his brows. "You make it sound like I don't have any friends."

"Oh I'm sure you have a lot of friends at your 'other job', but outside of that we both know that it's been just me, Harry, and..." she trailed off, her brows furrowed, using the excuse of taking a bite to not finish what she'd been saying. She sniffed, her red rimmed eyes slid off Peter to drop to her salad. "I'm just glad there's someone else, right now."

Especially with Harry probably dead, he knew she meant. Peter clenched one hand on his knee, using the physical pain to cover the raw flesh of his heart. His breath caught in his throat. The last slice of pizza dripped cheese from where it drooped in his hand.

Mary Jane's lips trembled and Peter didn't really think about it; he stretched an arm across the table and curled his fingers over her hand. She'd lost May and Harry with him. She didn't have many more friends outside of their small circle, either. He knew that she'd thrown herself into her work when she wasn't pulling him out of his spiral of misery.

She glanced up at him only briefly. Then her eyes dropped back to her plate and wiped her eyes with a napkin. She turned her hand on the table so that their palms rested against each other. "I'm worried about you, Pete. I've never seen you not," she rolled her eyes, "work your other job for so long. I've been at a loss of what else to do for you to bring you out of this funk that you're in."

Peter drooped just like the pizza still in his hand. He hadn't even thought about all the effort that MJ was putting in for him. She really had. Visiting daily and then no less than once a week when work needed her. Going on nearly a month and a half now if it. "S-"

She snatched her hand back and glared at him. "Don't you dare apologize, Pete." She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. "I was bringing it up, because my ultimate goal today is to get you to agree to having the Moraleses over to A-… to the house on Christmas."

Peter flinched. "Why would I do that?"

Mary Jane tilted her head. "Because it's good for you to have more than one person over at a time. Or more than the same person over all the time. You need your friends."

"House isn't very presentable, right now, and I'm supposed to be clearing it out."

Mary Jane set her chin on hand and smiled at him. "How's that working out so far?"

Peter flinched. "Are you actually going to give me a choice?"

Her smile widened. "No. We're going to show up, whether you like it or not."

Peter's fingers swiped through his hair, rubbing out a tangle his comb had missed earlier. "Whatever happened to talking me into it?"

She took a bite out of her pizza. "Getting you to agree to it would be nice, don't you think?"

He snorted at her, his lips curving upwards of their own accord. "Kind of."

"Then maybe you should just agree." She batted her lashes at him, her beautiful smile lighting up the restaurant.

"You are the worst."

Her smile didn't fade, as she stretched her hand out and stroked her fingers over his knuckles. "I know you too well, Pete. If I don't force myself on you, I'm afraid your going to self-destruct like you tried back when we first broke up."

Peter's lips pressed together. "Forcing, huh?" He lowered his eyes, but felt a flash of pride at the blush that raced across MJ's face. "So, I don't get a choice. Whether I like it or not?"

A sinister voice whispered similar words through his mind, '_… we have to do what's best for those beneath us. Whether they understand it or not.'_

Peter covered his eyes, shaking that memory off.

Mary Jane set the crust of her pizza down, and took his hand in both of hers. "Pete?"

He turned his face away, ashamed to be breaking down again in front of Mary Jane. Hadn't she had to deal with him enough as it was.

"I had to choose, MJ. There wasn't enough serum for everyone and May." He squeezed his eyes close, trying to keep any other tears from flowing. "I couldn't… How..." He grimaced and stopped talking.

Mary Jane stood up suddenly and slid into the booth next to him. "Was that what Michaels was telling you?" She clucked her tongue at his nod. She took his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. "Pete, I can't pretend to understand what that choice did to you." Her hand slid over his cheek, fingers soft on his skin. "I don't even want to say that you made the right choice." She forced him to look at her. "Did Aunt May hear?"

"She knew," Peter managed to spit out. He struggled to control his breathing, shuddering with tears.

Her fingers combed through his hair, pulling out locks of hair before smoothing them back. "What did she say, Pete?"

_'Yes, you do.'_

"That I'd know what to do," he choked out.

"Oh Peter." She took his face in both her hands and forced him again to raise his head, and meet her eyes. "I don't think you actually had a choice. She knew it too. She died right afterwards, right? Would the antiserum have worked in time?"

Peter jerked out of Mary Jane's hands; he couldn't breath.

_He stood before the bag hanging from the pole, the access port in his fist…_

"Pete, Pete." When did MJ get so close so she could whisper in his ear? "Breathe, Pete. It's okay. I'm sorry."

Peter found himself pressed to the side of the booth, his hand in his hair. His chest heaved with the air he couldn't get before.

Mary Jane must have moved away after whispering into his ear. "Do we need to go?"

He nodded. He needed to go back to Aunt May's house, before he the phantom claws crushed him again and stole the breath from his lungs.

She got the waitress's attention and paid for the meal, packing up the leftovers. She took Peter's arm and led him out of the restaurant and back to Aunt May's house.

Peter stopped when they were turning down the street to May's townhome, taking MJ's hand in his. He looked into Mary Jane's concerned eyes. "Do you really think that?"

"What?"

"That Aunt May would have died either way?"

"Pete… I," Mary Jane hesitated. She looked around and dragged him to a bench conveniently located nearby.

Peter let her pull him down next to her. He needed this. He needed to know. Even if it was only a best guess, or a worst deception, he wanted to hear what MJ had to say.

Mary Jane stared off into the distance, her hands folded on her crossed leg. "You missed the whole distribution of the serum. I helped out, so I could write a report," she amended quickly, as though guilty. What had she to feel guilty about? At least she was out there, instead of wallowing in self pity, like Peter had been "There were some cases where the person was too far gone, and even though no one was denied, they still died, their bodies too ravaged by the virus to recover. If… If ," Mary Jane paused, pressing her fist to her lips, but Peter could see the tears on her lashes. She took a breath, half sob, half shudder, "Aunt May had been given the serum, I don't think she would have recovered, Pete."

Peter jerked his head away, his heart breaking all over again. He covered the ragged sob that ripped its way out of his throat.

It wouldn't have mattered. He'd almost killed everyone else, and it wouldn't have mattered.

"No. No! Don't think like that, Peter," Mary Jane snapped, her hands on his forearms. "You need to stop taking responsibility for every little thing. You didn't do it. That is the only thing that matters." Mary Jane went quiet for a minute, her grip on his arms tight, even through his worn, winter coat. "Aunt May would be devastated to see you doing this to yourself. She told you, right? That you knew what you needed to do? That she knew who you were? She wanted you to save everyone else, Pete. Don't beat yourself up about it. This is what she wanted, doesn't that matter to you?"

"I don't want it. Though. I shouldn't have fallen asleep. I shouldn't have-"

She pressed her finger to his lips. "You shouldn't be playing 'what if's. You fell asleep?" Her fingers brushed negligent strands of hair away from his wet cheeks. "Even Spider-man is only human. If you fell asleep, with everything that was happening, you must have been exhausted. You needed the sleep, or you would have started making mistakes. Then maybe the serum would have been lost. You wouldn't have been-" she broke off, her hands trying to pluck words out of the air, "I don't actually know where you were, but it got you the serum. Maybe that wouldn't have worked out? Maybe you would have been so tired that you wouldn't have made it back. For crying out loud, I have sources that tell me 'Spider-man' left the hospital with fourteen freaking broken bones. Fourteen! That was, what? The day before you were dragged in by Sable and that doctor? You did your best and Aunt May knows it. There is no 'not good enough.'Your best will always be good enough. At least as far as I'm concerned." The last came out uncertainly, as though she wasn't sure it mattered to him.

Peter looked at her, the tears shocked out of him by her uncertainty. He turned to her, and hesitantly put his arms around her.

She stiffened, her lips pressed together, eyes wide, but then relented and pulled his head to her shoulder. She was afraid he was going to try to kiss her, he realized.

He just wanted her to know that what she told him mattered. To him. Her opinion, good or bad always mattered.

He didn't want to ruin what he had with her for a single stolen kiss. He didn't want to make her mad at him like that, again. He just wanted to comfort her, and thank her. Her words meant everything. He'd hold onto them and treasure them. "Thank you, MJ," he said, squeezing her against him carefully. "I can't tell you how much."

Her arms tightened around him in return. "Sure you can. You can agree to Christmas dinner."

A laugh burst out of his throat, as wet as his cheeks. He lifted his head from her shoulder to scrub at his face with his coat; though he was reluctant to let her get too far. "Sure, MJ. For you. Anything." He stood up. "One problem though, I don't have a table anymore."

She pointed at him. "My aunt still lives a fewcouple blocks over, and I can borrow one from her."

When they got back to the townhouse, Mary Jane handed the leftovers to him with a peck on the cheek (he didn't think she'd meant to do that, because her cheeks flushed afterwards) and she told him that she would be dragging him to the store a few days before Christmas, but she wouldn't be able to make it back over before then. Would he be able to work on the dining room by himself?

Peter simply nodded, more focused on the sensation of her lips against his skin then the stream of words from her mouth. He didn't turn from the door until she had closed it behind her, and then only so he could watch her through the picture window.

It probably meant nothing. She hadn't even meant to do it. Just a hold over from when they were dating (how many months ago?). He couldn't think too much on it. Even though he really couldn't do anything except to cling to that feeling of the press of her lips on the flesh of his cheek. He'd always been the clingy boyfriend, she'd told him jokingly so many times. Not untrue, he'd reflected in the months since they'd separated.

Peter turned around and went into the dining room to start picking up the remains of the dining room

* * *

**Author's End Note **I just broke canon, cause I think from the lease that Pete and MJ filled out in one of the backpacks May's actually renting (unless I'm not reading it right cause of course I am) and Pete wouldn't be able to sell it, but what else was he doing in the meantime.

I will be the first to admit, I've never had to deal with a parental/guardian figure's death. Tried to research it, but wasn't spending too much time on it. So much wrong. Sorry.

Been reading a ton of Homecoming fics and wanted to try my hands at panic attacks and flashbacks. I think this Peter copes differently so that doesn't usually happen. (Can you imagine how debilitating having a panic attack or a flashback would be during a fight with someone like Fisk?) But with the fic covering so shortly after everything, I figured it would not be an inappropriate place for Pete to have them.

Next chapter likely to take a month to finish the last two scenes.


	5. The Hardest Decisions Ch 3

**Author's Note ** Took longer than I thought to finish this. But hey, it's done! Yay~ Next is the last chapter which is done, actually. I can't believe this was so hard to finish. Hope it all makes sense?

* * *

Peter pushed the door open with his shoulder, since his arms were full of bags and held the door open for Mary Jane who also had an armful of groceries (to his frustration; she'd picked the bags up and refused to let him take any).

Peter paused on his way to the kitchen when Mary Jane stopped to look over the dining room. She smiled when she noticed him looking. "Progress."

"I've been packing my stuff upstairs, too. And I've been in talking to realtors."

"Ooh. That's more than I expected."

He frowned at her. "I hear patronizing."

She smiled again. "Me? Patronize you? Never."

Peter rolled his eyes, but a smile made its way onto his face. "I still need to go through May's room."

Her smile faded, and pain filled her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Do you have time to help today, maybe?"

She brushed his arm with her knuckles. "Of course, Pete."

Peter sighed in relief. "I'll admit that I haven't even opened her door."

Her brows furrowed. "I kinda figured that. This isn't going to be easy, you know."

Peter sighed again. "I know, but I've put it off way too long."

"Mmhmm. Let's get these groceries put away first and we'll work on that later. Oh," she said as she carried the bags past Peter and into the kitchen, "Auntie Anna says that you can absolutely borrow a table and even some chairs, but," Mary Jane raised finger as she set the first handful down, "she says you have to come down and get it yourself. I'll help of course, but you have to be there to get them."

Peter raised an eyebrow at her as he started storing the cold items.. "Technically, I don't actually need your help."

Mary Jane shook a can of cranberry sauce at him and wrinkled her nose, but she grinned, flashing her white teeth. "I know that, but she doesn't; unless you want to start sharing your secret?"

Peter closed the refrigerator door, having shelved the small ham they'd bought for the dinner in a few days. "Not looking to start that."

"Hey Pete," Mary Jane paused in putting the Chex in the pantry. "Would…" she hesitated, her eyes looking anywhere but at Peter, "would it bother you if we pulled out Aunt May's Christmas Decor? The tree's somewhere, right?"

Peter snorted. "Aunt May never throws those things away." He sighed. "I can probably still find the decorations from my tenth birthday party."

She laughed, and poked his shoulder. "Sure, but do you want to pull any of them out? One last time, so it's not quite so dark and depressing here?"

Peter blinked at her in surprise. "Wait, you think it's dark and depressing?"

Mary Jane's eyebrows shot straight to her hairline, and okay, maybe he needed to open the curtains or turn on more lights.

Or keep MJ around, because she always brightened the room wherever she went.

Decorations would have to do since that wasn't an option.

Peter rubbed his palms on his slacks. "We have to get them from the attic."

Mary Jane's smile faded. "Oh, I guess we're starting on May's room, huh?"

Because of course the attic access was in May's room.

They both looked up stairs at the ceiling where Aunt May's room lay above.

"No time like the present, I suppose," Mary Jane muttered, as though she had as much of an inclination to open Aunt May's door as Peter did.

Which was to say no inclination at all.

Peter had no fear of ghosts (he'd beaten too many spectres to really be scared of them). His memories held enough terror for him lately. Aunt May's room would be full of nothing but memories.

Concerned green eyes regarded him for a moment before Mary Jane nudged his arm. "Come on, tiger. We need to get this over with."

Her nickname for him sent a wash of pleasure through him. Just as it had before he'd gone after Octavius, when it had brought him to a halt and sent a flutter of hope to his chest. He didn't think it would be too much to say it had gotten him to the lab, knowing that she still had his back, and maybe they had a future.

Peter followed her up the stairs, his hands in his pockets.

MJ opened May's door, and warm yellow light flowed into the little hallway they stood in.

May's room looked almost exactly like Peter remembered from the last visit he'd made before…

Pictures dotted the wall, Ben and Peter and even a shot of Peter laughing with Mary Jane and Harry. Not the same one that had been sent from her office at her F.E.A.S.T. This one had been taken by Mary Jane and all of them were making stupid faces at the camera. Peter had never understood how that one had earned a place on her wall. Her bed stood made and ready for her to turn the sheets down for bed. Her dresser still had the doily Mary Jane's aunt had made on it with the souvenirs May had collected from trips with Ben. If you let her, she would tell you where exactly she was and what Ben had said when he'd given to her. Even if the words weren't always the same every time. Peter had always found it too funny to correct her.

Mary Jane's fingers closed on his wrist. "Pete, you okay?" Her hand cupped his cheek before she wiped at the tears he didn't even realize were falling.

"Sorry. This keeps happening." He turned his face from her hand, but only so he could scrub his cheeks with his collar.

She pushed his hands away. "I remember it did after Uncle Ben died too. Fortunately, this time I came prepared." She shook a tissue out of a travel pack and wiped his face clean of the tears before handing the tissue to him. She looked up at the ceiling. "Tell you what, you go look in the attic, and I'll start putting things away here. Maybe that would help you if it looked less like May's room?"

He would rather MJ came up to the horrible mess of an attic with him than for her to touch anything in Aunt May's room. It was like putting her things away was erasing Aunt May from his life. He wanted the room to stay the same, like May would be back on the 6:15 train from Manhattan. Even though he'd never opened her door, knowing that her room hadn't changed was like he was waiting for her to come home.

"Pete?"

Peter turned his eyes from the pictures lining the wall to Mary Jane's concerned face.

"You are really spacing there, tiger."

Peter's lips twitched. "I really miss her, MJ."

She blinked and wiped at her own eyes. "Me too, Pete. Me too. Get up there, I'll do what I can here."

Peter didn't want to search for the hook to open the access door, so he hopped up to the ceiling and pulled the door open with his hands. He didn't climb the stairs, he just crawled straight through the hole in the ceiling and into the dusty, dim attic space above the town home.

It didn't take him long to find the Christmas decorations (mostly because they weren't buried under everything else and May had nicely labeled the box 'Christmas Decor'.) There was even a box for last year's tree. He did have to dig it out from under 'Halloween', 'Birthday' and 'Easter'.

Mary Jane had pulled the pictures off the wall and cleared the dresser of the knickknacks by the time he'd come down.

It was like a stab in his heart to see the bare walls and empty dresser. He might have felt worse if Mary Jane hadn't been wiping her face as she sorted through the books on May's night stand. She looked up when Peter hopped down with both boxes under his arms.

Mary Jane helped Peter set up the tree, dragging conversation out of him as only she was capable. She had him talk about his resume and which realtors he'd spoken to and what about. She offered her own very very little experience from selling her father's house. She talked about her current article and how the promotion she'd been working towards stood.

Her chatter filled an emptiness Peter hadn't realized had been there.

When they were finally done, Peter had to admit that the place looked much more cheerful with the decorations. (_Like it had last Christmas when May had been alive. When MJ had been his girlfriend still. When Harry had still been…_)

"Aunt May would be happy to see this place so bright one last time, don't you think?"

Mary Jane's voice startled him out of his morose contemplation. "Yeah. She would be."

Mary Jane slipped her fingers through his and she smiled at him. "Come on, Tiger. Let's go upstairs. Still a lot of work to do so you can sell this place."

"Yeah," he said, carefully squeezing her hand.

She followed him up the stairs, and they sorted through Aunt May's room until Mary Jane had to head back to Manhattan.

* * *

"Peter!" Anna Watson greeted Peter when she opened her door. "Merry Christmas! It's so good to see you." She pulled him close to give him kiss on his cheek, like she always did. "I haven't seen you since May's funeral. Are you doing okay?" She gestured for Peter and Mary Jane to come inside, talking the whole while. "What a tragedy, everything that happened in Manhattan. To think that May would have gotten caught up with it. I do swear that I couldn't sleep outta worry for Mary Jane, and you too, Peter. I'm so glad that you both made it out okay. And to see you talking once more! Are you dating again? May and I always thought you were perfect for each other, and it was so sad that you'd broken up. I told May, I did, that arguments don't last forever, you're both so young and you were bound to get back together. She'd be so happy. I do miss her. "

Mary Jane rolled her eyes at her Aunt, her smile strained. "We're not dating Aunt Anna. We're just friends. I've just been helping him out."

"Really," Anna didn't sound like she believed it, "I'm sure it's just a temporary thing. Peter's always been such a nice boy. He'd always be so happy to help, like his Uncle, god rest his soul. And it's so hard to find to a guy with a good job."

Peter winced, as Aunt Anna wasn't even looking. "That's-"

Mary Jane stepped in. "He actually lost his job in the whole Devil's Breath fiasco. He's working on getting a new one, when he's not getting the townhome ready to be sold."

"Oh, you're selling the Parker house? That's such a pity. Ben was so proud of his house, and all the work he put in it. He'd always hoped to raise a family, but never had any children until you came along, Peter." Anna's voice warbled. "Ben was devastated by Richard's death, but he said that having you in his life made it impossible to stay sad for long."

Mary Jane hurried over to her aunt. "Auntie, you're just going to make yourself upset. Let's not do that on Christmas. You should be smiling. We're here to pick up the table and chairs, remember?" Peter recognized the voice Mary Jane used, as the one she'd been used on him when he woke up in the hospital last month. Soft. Coaxing.

"I really appreciate you letting me borrow the table, the one May had was… old. I guess she didn't want to bother me and say it was falling apart..." Peter trailed off at the look Mary Jane had given him. It was her 'you should stop, you terrible liar, you' face.

"May had mentioned wanting to go to the flea market to replace some pieces, I can't remember if the dinner table was one of those..." Aunt Anna tapped her lip, her grey eyes sweeping over the room. "Right. The table and chairs. They're in the shed out back, go ahead and get them, Peter. I need Mary Jane's help with something."

Peter gave Aunt Anna a smile, a little thin if MJ's narrowed eyes were any indication.

"Key's hanging by the back door, Pete," MJ told him as she followed Aunt Anna into the kitchen.

Peter went and pulled the table and chair out of the storage room attached to every town home. Peter eyed the mess the storage unit, and then, with some judicious use of spider strength, he extracted the table and chairs from the storage area without having to take everything out of the shed and then putting it back.

Mary Jane joined him at the back door, taking two folding chairs in each arm and leaving Peter with the table.

"Think you'll have an arm free for Auntie Anna's Christmas present?"

"Um..."

Mary Jane grinned at him and stepped back into her Aunt's house, heaving the chairs through the door with her.

Peter could have honestly taken them all without any difficulty, but it would have looked odd for him to take them down the street. Mary Jane would have been furious at him too, for 'helping' her. It used to be that wouldn't have stopped him from doing the 'right thing' in his goal to 'protect her.' Peter carried the table through the backdoor, and into Anna Watson's living room. He had to remember to grunt and groan as he set the table on the floor by his feet.

Anna Watson was regarding the table and the casserole in her hands. She hmmed, in a way that strangely (or perhaps not so strangely) reminded Peter of her niece. "Let me grab a bag so you can carry this back with you, dearie."

"You didn't have to, Ms Watson. MJ and I had a dinner planned."

"Nonsense. I have no one else to cook for, and my niece doesn't get nearly enough home cooking anymore." Aunt Anna presented Peter with the casserole dish in double plastic grocery bags. "You're the reason that Mary Jane is finally visiting after a year's absence. Really it's the least I can do for you, Peter." She kissed his cheek again, and turned her head so Peter could give her a peck on the cheek in return. "And really, call me Aunt Anna, or even just Auntie. We've known each too long for formalities."

"Thank you again, Aunt Anna." Peter tilted his head toward Mary Jane. "I hope you don't mind me stealing your niece on the holiday?"

Aunt Anna laughed. "Oh no, my dear. I'm going over to visit a bunch of other old foggies, and she would rather spend the holiday with you, no doubt."

"Aunt Anna..." Mary Jane hissed, her face red.

"What, it's true. Don't try to deny it."

Peter averted his eyes from MJ's embarrassed face, though it did make him happy that she would be made uncomfortable by her Aunt's words. He settled the bagged casserole in the crook of his elbow and picked the card table up, careful not to jostle the casserole "We should head back. Still have a long day of cooking to get through before Rio and Miles come over."

"That's right, Aunt Anna. We should really be going. We'll get these back tomorrow."

"Don't be silly. He still needs a table and chairs until he sells the place, right? Peter can return those whenever he's done with them."

Peter grimaced, but thanked her, unable to express how grateful he was for such a simple gesture.

* * *

Rio wrapped Peter up in a hug when he opened the door to her and Miles. She kissed both his cheeks and then did the same to Mary Jane.

"Peter, Mary Jane, Thank you for inviting us over." Rio's dark eyes flicked back to the teen standing behind her. "Miles has a few things for you Peter. And I brought this." She held up a pie carrier.

Miles, his brows pressed together as he regarded Peter and the interior of the townhome, stepped past his mother and handed Peter a couple of small wrapped boxes. "This is a nice place. I thought you lived in Manhattan though?"

"Miles..." Rio said a warning tone in her voice.

"It's okay, Rio. It's easier to take care of things if I'm staying here. How's things with the Robotics Club? Did you get that drone to work?"

Rio followed Mary Jane to the kitchen, after refusing to let MJ take the pie carrier. "Let's let the boys catch up," she was saying.

"Yeah. Ganke was really excited, though I wish we could have kept the gun. But the teacher said that he had to give it to the authorities." Miles face fell with disappointment.

Peter might have laughed any other time. "I'm sure I don't have to give you a speech about how guns aren't appropriate for any age and shouldn't be treated like toys."

Miles sputtered. "You don't have to tell me that. I know! But, you know... It'd have been cool to be able to keep them. Or-Or maybe we could have used the components to build something else."

Peter nodded, noticing again how Miles' presence crawled across his skin. "Or just seen how it was built, right? Let me know if you guys get your hands on one again, maybe I could pick it up and we could try taking it apart..." Peter hesitated. Remembering that he'd have to go into Manhattan to meet up with Miles.

"That'd be great, Peter. Were..." Miles hesitated. "Were you going to go back to Manhattan soon? It's still a mess out there, so I don't know if it'd be safe. Especially since Spider-man's disappeared. Mom almost didn't let me go back to the F.E.A.S.T. center on the weekends. Everyone there misses you, too. They wish you'd stop by and say hi, even if you're too busy to help out right now."

Peter's eyes dropped to his feet, he didn't know how to explain it to Miles. Manhattan held nothing but pain left for him. A slew of nightmares where he'd done nothing but fail.

Miles had continued talking while Peter had wallowed in shame. "You know it's weird how Spider-man was so concerned with the shelter and now he's disappeared and hasn't even checked in with anyone there."

Peter pressed his lips together, his guilt knotting tightly in his chest at Miles' words, but he managed some semblance of curiosity. "Really?"

"Yeah, the guy brought the antiserum and didn't even stick around long enough to say hi. But I guess he had other places to be or- or things he needed to do. I would've thought he'd be taking care of the prisoner camps at least, but nothing's really being done and Sable's still running rampant around Manhattan."

Honestly Peter had been completely avoiding most of the major news coming out of Manhattan. He'd have though the Avengers would have stepped in by now, or even the Fantastic Four, but he hadn't tried reaching out to any of his contacts on either team. When he looked up he managed to catch Mary Jane's eyes, she lifted her eye brows as though she could see his thoughts (she could probably guess them, she'd known him long enough). "Must be pretty bad over there."

"Yeah. But that's okay. If you avoid the camps around the city and watch out for the Sable patrols it's really not that much different than the rest of New York."

"I wish Miles didn't insist on walking to and from the shelter all the time," Rio said as she passed by with the ham pulled fresh from the oven.

"Mom," Miles groaned, his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. "I told you, I can handle it. You gotta work and can't be toting me all over the place." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "You didn't worry about me wandering around when Spider-man was around."

Rio scoffed, but didn't argue.

Peter clenched his jaw and looked away; ever-present guilt twisting in his gut. Mary Jane raised her brow as she passed by with the casserole Anna had given them that morning, steaming and freshly warmed. Peter popped into the kitchen, dragging Miles along behind him. He had Miles grab the biscuit platter and the yams, while he carried the drinks out. Wine for the adults and apple cider for Miles.

The conversation over dinner drifted from Miles work at the shelter and in school to Mary Jane's last article to the types of injuries and illnesses Rio's been seeing in the hospital lately.

Peter listened to the conversation, but didn't really join in, picking at the food on his plate, in spite of his growling stomach. When the talk turned to his doings, he couldn't help the frown that pinched at his lips and furrow of his brow.

Mary Jane watched him with a knowing glint in her eyes as she chewed on a mouthful of yams.

Rio coaxed replies from Peter as easily as Mary Jane did, with Miles piping in his own bits and Mary Jane purring teases that made Peter blush. Hearing about the state of Manhattan weighed heavily on Peter's mind. He didn't want to think on it though. Didn't want to think of what the costume had cost him.

He just wanted to enjoy this dinner with his friends and appreciate the warmth that had filled Aunt May's abnormally cold home. Almost like Aunt May had come home again. It ended too soon though, as Rio said that she needed to visit with other family members still.

Peter closed the door and headed back to join Mary Jane on the couch. "This was a great idea, MJ. I'm really glad that you talked me into it."

She looked up from her pumpkin pie and its ginormous scoop of whipped topping. She nodded her head, trying to quickly swallow her mouthful of pie so she could tell him, "Of course it was."

He smiled, just as much at her affirmation as at the whipped cream that sat at the corner of her mouth. "You've got some whipped topping here," he said pointing helpfully to his own face.

She swiped at her face, but it still sat there on the corner of her mouth.

He tutted at her, and reached out to wipe it away with his thumb. He'd only meant to wipe his thumb over the corner of her mouth, but he paused with his finger over her lips, cream on his nail. Her lips caught his attention: the way they caught the light, their soft pink color.

Her eyes shone brightly at him, lashes brushing her skin, and she tilted her head and took his thumb into her mouth.

Air hissed between his teeth with his sharp intake of breath. The feel of her tongue curled around his thumb sent unbelievable shivers up his arm. He couldn't take his eyes off the shape of her lips around his thumb.

She pulled her mouth off his thumb with a wet pop and turned to his forefinger, her eyes never leaving his face. Her fingers curled over his wrist and hand so that she could turn his hand under her contemplative consideration.

Peter drew another sharp breath through his parted lips as he watched her take his forefinger into her mouth. The heat from her eyes crawled across his skin and he wanted to shift on the couch to relieve the sudden tightness in his pants. He didn't move though. As though any sudden moves would frighten Mary Jane's flirtations away, and put them back to where they had been before Halloween. Barely friends.

Her teeth grazed his knuckles as she slid her mouth off his finger. Her pink tongue flicked out at his finger tip, teasing, before she tilted his hand and moved to his middle finger for more of the same treatment.

The rest of the world fell away from Peter's attention, his only focus being her fever bright eyes, and her plush lips as they curled around his finger. Her warm mouth, and teeth and the tongue that sucked at his finger. He panted a breath, his heart racing. He couldn't believe how hot her mouth on his freaking fingers made him feel. How hot it made her look.

Her green eyes flicked down, and the deviation in her attention drew his own gaze down.

She'd scooped a dollop of whipped cream on her own finger and held it before his lips. Her eyes fastened on his mouth as she waited, patiently. Even as Mary Jane slid her mouth off his middle finger to take in his ring finger instead.

Peter's mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the cream on the finger Mary Jane offered him. He couldn't do anything but open his mouth to her, his eyes locked with hers.

She pushed her finger into his mouth, her nail scraping his tongue and her knuckle brushing the stiff hair on his upper lip. Her warm breath washed over his hand in a rapid tempo, her lips working on his pinkie. She pulled her finger out of his mouth and swept another finger of whipped cream up to his lips. She'd shifted closer to him, until their hips pressed together.

He could smell the ham on her breath, taste the fruity lotion she used on her fingers. Her soap and shampoo, a mingling of scents that meant Mary Jane to him. He tilted his head and took her finger into his mouth, swallowing the whipped cream though he could still taste the pumpkin pie on her fingers.

Mary Jane pulled her hand away from his mouth, her face flushed and breath quickened.

Peter pulled his finger from her lips, shivering at the wash of her breath over the back of his hand. He gently held her chin in his moist fingers and hesitantly leaned toward her lips.

His eyes never left hers and so he didn't miss when her eyes widened and her breath froze in her chest.

He stopped, lips centimeters apart.

She released the breath that had stalled in her throat, quick, but not from excitement. Confusion darkened the heat that had been burning in her eyes. "I should go," she told him in a soft voice.

Peter's brows furrowed. He wanted to say, 'No', or tell her 'Stay with me'. He wanted to pull her into his lap and never let her go.

That thought had him snap backwards, made him drop his hand from her chin. Thoughts like that had driven the wedge between them that drove her away from him nearly eight months ago, he knew now. Not her career. Him.

She swallowed convulsively then she bolted for her coat and whipped over to the door. She paused there, and Peter felt his hopes rise…

"Merry Christmas, Pete," she said in a choked voice and dashed his hopes as she darted out the door.

Peter threw himself against the back of the couch, not caring at how the old thing creaked at his abuse. He stared at the ceiling, his neck arched uncomfortably. "Fuck," he spat. He did reach down and adjust his pants then, pulling the fabric away from his erection.

Had he done something wrong?

* * *

Peter spent the next day working on his webshooters. After defeating Otto he'd gotten back to the F.E.A.S.T. Center by parkouring through the city, running across the roofs and even leaping lamp posts through Central Park. Then he hadn't wanted anything to do with Spider-anything, and so his webshooters had sat broken in the backpack along with his suit. MJ had gotten Peter through the worst two months of his life, but Miles had reminded Peter that Spider-man could still do some good in the awful world. When he needed a break from the detailed work on the webshooters, he packed, or he worked on the mask that Otto…

_'Such a disappointment… Parker.'_

Peter left the now spare mask where he'd thrown it and went back to packing, his chest heaving, and cold sweat on his skin.

Mary Jane was the first person he texted when the realtor told him they might have someone interested in the property. She told him that he should start looking into storage for when he sold the house (even if this buyer fell through). He'd have to put that and the moving truck he would need on a credit card until the money cleared out of escrow.

Thursday saw Peter in his suit, bouncing anxiously as he slipped his mask over his face and booted the system with a press of specific buttons on his mask. The display flashed across his lens, the system initializing. Peter blinked at the info dump, and he already missed being linked up to Manhattan's crime alert system.

Then he gagged, because oh yeah. He remembered why this had become the spare mask. He'd thrown up in this mask after a bad hit from Rhino before he'd been put in the Raft. Never got around to cleaning it, so it had become the spare. Now it _reeked_

and Peter ripped it off, coughing the horrible smell out of his nose—he could even taste it! He yelped as the lining inside mask tried to peel his beard off. Right, and that was the reason he didn't grow a beard. Beards in masks sucked.

The whole suit stank, so instead of going out, he spent the remainder of the day on the long and arduous task of cleaning it. It had been long overdue even before Fisk's arrest, but everything happened before he could. Then he couldn't find the will to do anything for weeks and even months.

Tomorrow, though, Spider-man would webswing again. Maybe not in Manhattan, right now: Queens, Brooklyn, Long Beach would see Spidey patrolling his old stomping grounds.

* * *

"_Someone's been busy. :)"_

Peter snorted when he clicked the link Mary Jane sent. A Daily Bugle article: '_SPIDER-MAN SPOTTED! Reports coming in from Brooklyn, Long Beach and Queens. Real or fake?_' One of Peter's old photographs sat underneath the headline, and Peter's thighs ached at the unnatural arch of his body with his knees tucked up to his chest. It had never stopped being uncanny to see a picture of himself and not recognize himself. He still saw himself as the geeky gawky teen he'd been back in high school before the spider bite.

Peter tapped against the phone case thoughtfully and then typed out a reply. "_Yeah, couldn't stay cooped up all the time, right?_"

"_Sounds like you're listening to some good advice, finally._"  
He couldn't help the smile that tugged the corner of his mouth up and he contemplated the words that he imagined in Mary Jane's flirty tone. It made him wonder again why she'd run away after Christmas dinner when she'd been the one to really start it in the first place. New Years would be in a few days so he could see if she'd like to watch the fireworks on the Queensboro bridge like they'd done their last year of high school.

Peter danced on the ceiling when Mary Jane sent back a quick reply, "_Sure._"

* * *

Peter swooped down and scooped Mary Jane out of the alley she'd ducked into. She laughed, her arms around his neck, her body pliant against him. He swung them up to the trusses, the metal colder than the night air. Mary Jane had packed a blanket for exactly that reason.

"It's… good to see you in the suit again, Pete. I was a little worried that you weren't going to… anymore?"

Peter settled another blanket around Mary Jane's shoulder, accepting the other end to cover him in his spandex suit. He shivered in the suit, unable to keep warm even with the little mini heaters that he'd built into the suit. Peter considered (and discarded) the desire to pull her against him. He knew better. She would raise utter hell. But when she rested her head against his shoulder he leaned back.

"I can't stay away. You know how much the costume means to me. I just needed… a break."

Her fingers curled around his knee, and she tapped him. "A break, huh?" She pulled his hand out from where it rested in his lap. "Well, I'm glad you're back."

The clock in Peter's HUD counted midnight, just as the bells chimed in Manhattan and fireworks lit up the night.

Peter leaned back on his hands, watching the explosions that threw colors in the air. He thought Mary Jane was watching too.

Until a hand touched his cheek, and turned his head, and Mary Jane's lips pressed against his mouth under the mask.

She knew exactly where to kiss him, too.

It wasn't just the platonic press of lips against his. No. Her mouth moved, as though the mask didn't stand between them.

It made him gasp a breath in surprise.

It had been over eight months now, since he'd last tasted her lips. But he remembered as though yesterday. She would taste like peppermint, her flavor of choice during the winter season.

He could do nothing else but to kiss her back, afraid that this would end too sudden and too soon, as it had on the couch after Christmas dinner. He didn't make any other move then to open his mouth to her, the fabric a horrible taste, but her lips soft and sweet. He didn't want to frighten her away, as he had last week (was it just last week?) when he'd moved too soon.

On the couch he hadn't had a thought for anything but what the two of them had been doing (her lips around his fingers, her finger in his mouth). Now though, his mind raced with so many things. Memories and desire. Her mouth against his made him remember: the curve of her hip as she drowsed at his side, sweaty and beautiful from their lovemaking; the swell of her breast under his hand as she gasped in delight from his touch; the pulse of her pliant throat under his lips as he slid into her.

He wanted to touch her though, wanted to pull her astride his hips, or lay her down and make love to her under the light of the fireworks. It was like fulfilling his college fantasies with her all over again  
Out here on the arch as they were, reminded him of that time she'd had him bring her to the top of the Citigroup Center on his birthday. She had dressed in a skirt and packed a blanket that served as both shield against the chill and a cover for their lovemaking.

(_'Sex is not a bad word, Pete,' she'd laughed at him, when she'd heard him call it that. He'd grinned at her and asked, teasing back, 'Is that all I am to you, just sex?' She had laughed, as he'd intended, and declared, 'Yes!' He'd thrown the blanket over them both then and quickly made her regret her words. To their delight._)

He was torn between the desire to roll his mask up so he could feel her lips against his without the fabric blocking him, and the fear that if he asked, she would realize what she was doing, regret it and refuse to resume.

She stroked his cheek, and jaw. Paused. And pulled away, her green eyes speculative as she looked his face over, following the path of her hand on his face.

Peter leaned into her touch, watching her eyes flick over his face.

Almost as if she read his mind, Mary Jane moved, her hand suddenly dropping to his shoulder, but only so she could brace herself as she got on her knees and slid one of her legs to straddle his waist. She didn't even object when he took her elbow to steady her on the slippery metal bars of the bridge's truss. Her attention remained focused on her fingers and his jaw. Her fingers which slid down his neck slipped under the seam of his mask and slid the bottom of the mask up to the bridge of his nose. An appreciative noise slipped from her throat, and it sent a thrill through Peter to be able to elicit such a sound from her.

Even f he didn't quite know what had caused that.

At least until she'd run her fingers over his smooth, shaved jawline, another small noise humming from her throat.

Peter didn't move his hands from her elbows, but he did run his thumb over her thick coat. He didn't want to say or do anything and risk breaking whatever spell kept her hands touching him.

Her fingers paused by his lips, and her green eyes flicked up, not quite meeting his eyes through the lens, even though he tried. Both of her hands encompassed his jaw, fingers caressing the junction at the hinge of his jaw and his neck. She leaned closer, inhaling.

His aftershave, Peter realized. She used to say she loved the smell of his aftershave.

Then she kissed him.

Mary Jane kissed him.

What could Peter do but to kiss her back?

The night was cold, but Mary Jane's lips were hot and soft and delicious against his mouth. Peppermint, just as he remembered, with a taste of the sparkling cider they'd carried up with them for celebration.

She pressed closer, not objecting or stopping when his hand cupped the back of her head. She deepened the kiss, mouth hungrily devouring his lips, a sentiment he eagerly returned.

Peter's hands went to her hips, stroking down her soft thighs and back up. He gasped with the friction of her crotch against the erection that had bloomed in his suit pants.

The need to roll her onto her back and join his body to hers until he'd satisfied both of them sent desperate quivers through his arms and legs, shudders along his back. Dammit he shouldn't be so aroused just from touching her. He'd be mortified if she noticed his erection. But he couldn't stop kissing her back. Couldn't stop his wandering hands, though he at least managed to keep them from anywhere too inappropriate, at least.

Her hands slid down his neck and over his shoulders. She shifted in his lap, crooning when he gasped again. She pressed him against the metal bars of the arch, and he could feel the soft curvature of her breasts even through her thick coat.

The fireworks exploded behind her, casting faint colors across her green coat. Mary Jane's eyes stayed closed, but Peter couldn't get enough of the sight of her. Until another rub across his crotch had his eyes sliding close, his hips jerking against her.

He wanted… He wanted…

To tear her pants off, and slide his erection out. He wanted her wrapped around him, her thighs clenching as she moved up and down…

Peter's arms slid around her waist, holding her against him as a soft, helpless growl rolled out of his throat from the pressure of his need.

Her tongue touched his upper lip, but she pulled away (_too soon, too soon_, his nether regions cried) and smiled crookedly down at him. Lips swollen from their heated kiss.

She kissed his cheek, but only so she could lean in close to his ear. "Happy New Year, Pete," she murmured. She rolled his mask back over his chin and slid off his lap to sit next to him and lay her head on his shoulder, watching the firework display above them.

Peter pressed his lips together against the whimper in his throat. The brightly colored lights flashed high in the sky above him, almost like his vision exploding from their kiss. He lifted a hand to touch his lips beneath his mask, still able to taste that faint trace of peppermint lip balm. His pulse pounded in his ears, and he wiggled his waist to ease the tension in his suit, where he ached with desire. The elastic of his briefs and the conforming shape of his spandex suit painful against his erection.

He looked down at Mary Jane's ring of red hair, wondering if he could ask for a repeat. He rolled the taste of her mouth around his tongue, rolled the feel of her lips in his mind as he tried to understand the woman he used to take such liberties with for granted. That had not been a kiss between friends; he'd seen the chaste peck of her lips she bestowed on Harry beneath the mistletoe. He couldn't make sense of what she had meant by that. He couldn't take that kiss and the rub of her body against his as any more than a thank you for a beautiful night.

Yet he found he could do nothing else.

When Mary Jane declared that she needed to head home, Peter tucked her against side and carried her to the nearest alley to the Queensboro Plaza. He'd hoped for a goodbye kiss, but whatever had driven her on the bridge tower seemed to have left her as her cheeks colored. She did hug him though, so he supposed that was promising. She didn't run away either, but smiled and said she'd see him next week.

Carrying MJ had done nothing for the raging hard on pressed against his suit. He hadn't been able to think of anything but their kiss, and the press of her against him. Even the weight of her head on his shoulder sent another pulse of desire through his heart. Time had only made it worse, so that the friction of his suit _burned_.

Peter clambered up to a nearby roof, hunching his back in a futile effort to keep his suit from rubbing him so much. He sought the highest building he could find, tucking himself against the wall of the roof entry.

He glanced around, but didn't waste anymore time to take his erection out of his suit. His balls ached, and the gloves clung to the sensitive skin of his penis. He stroked the head of his shaft, hissing at the rough fabric over his fingers.

Peter's mind flashed to the time Felicia had given him a hand job, but the memory of Felicia brought a tangled web of emotion (_anger, disappointment, loss, hurt_). He didn't know why his mind went there, except that Black Cat had been a sexpot since Peter had met her.

Mary Jane deserved better than his fapping off to the memory of her mouth on his, and the memory of the inexorable slide of his length inside her. The warm, wet silk that would hug his erection.

Peter grunted a soft 'oh' with the memory of her legs around his waist, her breast in the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes against the sight of the concrete roof around him, his hand sliding around his cock.

He couldn't fool himself that he was anywhere other than a roof in the middle of the city, but he could remember Mary Jane splayed beneath him, her skin flushed, skirt hiked over her hips to expose pale thighs.

That memory sent another zing through Peter's arm, quickening the pace of his hand.

He could still taste the whipped cream and Mary Jane's finger in his mouth. He hadn't had to rub one out after that, even though he'd definitely been aroused. Her flight from the townhome (from _him_) had cooled his erection as he'd puzzled over where he'd gone wrong.

He could still taste her skin on his tongue.

Peter's chest heaved as though he'd run a marathon, his grip tight on his cock.

He could still feel hair brushing his cheeks as she moved over him, hands pressed into his chest as leverage for her bucking hips.

The disjointed memories, pulled from the span of years he'd been dating Mary Jane surged through Peter as though fresh. She deserved better than his hand on his cock.

What made him finally cum, though, was the memory of the very simple sensation of her lips against his cheek from a few weeks ago. The pressure that had built up in his groin over the past hour released in a rush, all over his hand and even on his suit. Even though he bent double, and tried to press his erection down.

He gasped against the wall, legs trembling and too weak to stand on. He held his sticky hand out and away from him, wishing he'd made it back to the townhome before he'd dealt with this. Gingerly, he tucked himself back into his spandex and briefs, hissing as the once hot liquid quickly cooled on his skin and briefs.

He was going to have to clean the suit for certain now. He'd intended to go on patrol after taking Mary Jane to the station. Now he just needed to go clean up, and sleep.

He hauled himself to his feet. He didn't want to fall asleep out here, and he would if he waited too long. He gave himself a minute before he jogged over to the edge of the building and stepped off the edge.

Peter shot out a webline, shaking the messy hand before extending that arm and anchoring another line.

He didn't think Mary Jane understood how crazy she made him. How crazy he was for her. Or maybe she did, and she enjoyed tormenting him, just like she'd always enjoyed teasing him at the worst times.

He couldn't misinterpret what she'd done tonight, even though he didn't doubt that the memory would have him hard again by the time he got back to his room. Yup. He could already feel the swelling in his pants.

He could hope that she meant something by it. Even though he knew he shouldn't. With Mary Jane though he couldn't do anything else.

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**Author's Note **I got distracted by life. I also itch to write my original stuffs. Good news is that the next chapter is pretty much done and ready and was like the first or second chapter/scene I actually finished. Expect it very soon and then I'm going to poke at the next 'arc' a little bit at a time. But I need to go play with my original stuff a little bit.


	6. The Hardest Decisions Ch 4

Chapter 4  
A Culmination of Dreams

Author's Notes: So the story comes full circle back to You Can Always Stay At My Place. This is technically the end of the 'Tying Up Loose Ends' storyline. Anything further in this series is simply my speculation on where the next game could be going (though with more adult-y material than Sony and Marvel would ever allow) (2021! I need to write!) I have a destination in mind. But I'm not sure if everyone will want to join me on this ride. Yes, I posted and deleted the chapter. Something happened with the formatting and I want to make this as close to perfect as I can.

* * *

Peter claimed their usual table at Stan's. He settled his bag in the booth next to him and dug out his laptop to mess around while he waited for Mary Jane. He'd thought he saw a few replies from a few places he'd put an application before he'd gotten off the subway. Then he'd been distracted by Mary Jane's excitement and hadn't been able to dig into the emails, which did wonders for his nerves. Mary Jane's excitement helped with that as well, with the anticipation she'd shared before Robbie had called her into his office, and then she'd gone silent. Peter flinched at the number of 'not interested' emails he had in his received, or places that offered a pittance of a salary. He stopped before he choked on his disappointment, and flipped over to work on improvements to the suit. The waitress dropped off the fries he'd ordered, and he snagged one absently as he searched for a more flexible answer to the white spider. Something that didn't irritate his skin quite so much.

The door jangled open and drew Peter's attention. A smile lit his face as he saw Mary Jane's excitement in her every move. He slid out of the booth and stood up to meet her at the edge of the tables. He tried to measure the result of her meeting in her face, but she kept her expression spectacularly neutral. "So…?" he pretty much demanded.

She smiled then, and extended her hand. "Hi. Mary Jane Watson, associate editor."

Peter's mouth fell open and he seized her hand to shake it. "Congrats! I knew you could do it." He wanted to pull her into a hug, but that seemed a tad too forward and boyfriend-y for the current state of their relationship.

She grinned back and thanked him before she took the booth across from him. "What about you? Find a job yet?" She munched on the fry she'd stolen from his basket.

"Oh, no, but, uh..." Peter paused, taking the opportunity to close his laptop while the waitress spoke to Mary Jane. He could feel the smile melting off his face as he remembered all the rejections sitting in his inbox. He snorted a defeated laugh, "I was actually considering a career change."

Mary Jane frowned a bit. "Hm?"

So he tried to turn it into a joke. "Yeah. I think I might want to become a chef." There might actually be a future there. A spider-themed restaurant waiting for his innovation!

Mary Jane coughed and laughed. "I'm sorry. No, it's… you're a scientist. A good one."

Peter's face tightened at the word scientist, and he laughed again. "The last project I worked on, I created a monster octopus that almost destroyed the city. So..."

She frowned down at his hands. "Yeah…." Then her gaze swept up to his eyes and she smiled again. "I mean, you do make a hell of a chicken curry."

Peter chuckled, remembering her scolding him for the clothes he'd left on her floor and her later crooning over the curry he'd made her. "I do." He smirked still rolling the memory of her sitting on her couch torn between laughter and frustration. "Still working my dumplings, though."

Mary Jane laughed at that. Her eyes turned to the backpack next to him. "Going camping?"

"Oh..." he sat back and tried to wave her concern away. "My new place isn't going to be ready for about a week, so I'm going to be crashing with Miles for the next few nights."

"Oh." She squinted at the bag and then at him. She took a deep breath and her eyes dropped to the table. "You know, you can always stay at my place..."

Peter couldn't even blink, his eyes widened and his heart thrummed and he couldn't move because he didn't want to find out this was a dream.

"I mean," Her hand traced an idle line along the grain of the table, and she couldn't seem to meet his eyes. "Only if you want to."

'Want to?' Peter sat forward, hands gesticulating just above the table. "No. I mean, yes! I mean, no I don't not want to, meaning I do want to… but only if you do." In what universe would he not want to stay with MJ.

Her smile brightened his day as she leaned toward him, voice dropping into a husky whisper as she told him, "I never stopped wanting to."

Peter met her eyes, unable to look away, resisting the urge to pinch himself. Convinced it would all come crashing down around him. "Me neither," he breathed. Hadn't he been trying to get back with her this whole time?

Her hands pressed against the table and she was leaning toward him.

Peter caught his thigh against the edge of the table, too close for comfort to sensitive parts, but that was unimportant when his lips met hers. Warm. Soft. Tasting like the raspberry lip balm he remembered. His eyes slid close, and he slid a hand over the table to ground himself with his fingers on her skin. Sweet. She tasted so sweet to him as she pressed harder against his mouth, stealing his breath before she broke away to smile into his eyes.

He didn't let go of her hand when they slid back into their seats. "I should call Miles," he realized aloud, "and let him know about the change of plans."

Her quiet smile made him feel like an idiot for voicing that thought aloud, but her thumb stroking the sensitive stretch of skin along the inside of his knuckle chased any further thought away. He told himself to calm down, and that she might not mean that.

He wouldn't remember what they ordered, or even what little they talked about. His mind kept returning to the fact that she'd invited him to her house for the night. More than one night? Would this be a regular thing? Oh god, he hoped it would. But that would be expecting too much. _Peter, you're getting ahead of yourself._ She could just as easily have been offering her couch as a place on her bed.

Her flirting did nothing to ease his nervous anticipation and it made his jokes fall flat to his ears though it only made her smile wider at him. He wanted to kiss those lips again, to bury his face into her neck and smell her. He let himself admire the sweep of her lashes as they brushed her skin, the arch of her eyebrow, the fall of her coat over her shoulders and chest.

The wail of sirens drew his attention away, and she sighed and declared her lunchbreak over anyways.

He stood and grabbed his backpack, digging cash out of his pockets to leave on the table for the waiter. He paused by her when she wouldn't let go of his hand. She tugged him down and pecked his lips, sliding her mouth over his in a way that made him regret having to leave so soon. Regret the call of his responsibility.

"See you tonight?" she murmured against his lips.

Peter gulped, but a smile crossed his lips and her eyes softened. "Definitely." He wouldn't miss it for the world. Maybe the end of the world, but not just the world.

Another police car flew by and so Peter knew he had to leave as well. He ducked into an alley and scaled the wall. He stripped his shirt and pants off and stuffed them into his backpack, pulling his mask and gloves out of the front pocket of his pack.

Mary Jane had invited him over!

He tossed the backpack onto a wall, throwing out a blob of webbing stick it to the wall.

And she'd kissed him! Him!

Peter took a running leap to the next roof, following the echo of sirens in the streets. He couldn't help the whoop that burst out of his throat.

He shouldn't get too excited though, right? Invited to her apartment could mean sleeping on her couch. But she'd kissed him! That was a good thing right? Especially after that New Years kiss (and Christmas, but she'd run away after...) He should be prepared either way. She didn't have to know unless, you know… They….

_Nope. Pete. Don't get yourself excited for no reason._

But MJ didn't kiss friends like that.

He was going to be stressing this the rest of the day, wasn't he?

That's a yup.

The walls of the labs hung suspended over a lake of poison drowning Manhattan. Spider-man leapt from the barely visible tops of the building, heading for F.E.A.S.T. Octavius beat him there, his tentacles writing and snapping their claws. Electricity crackled across his Vulture Wings and the Scorpion tail coiled over the Rhino's horn. All of them came out of Otto's screaming face. He had Peter in his tentacles, one of the claws impaling him.

Peter couldn't get loose, he was drowning in the poison dripping from Octavius' open, screaming mouth.

"PEEEEETEEEEEEERRRRR!"

His super strength couldn't free him, he couldn't get a grip on Octavius' lips and he plunged into the burning sea of poison.

Peter woke up disoriented.

He hung upside down from the ceiling for some weird reason. Cold sweat drenched his naked skin. He shuddered against the ceilng, trying to catch his breath as though he'd just swung the entire length of the city fifty times non-stop.

His neck crawled with the feeling of eyes on him. He glanced down and found Mary Jane pressed against the doorjamb of her bedroom, her eyes wary.

"Peter, you with me up there?"

Peter shook his head, not an answer, instead a gesture to shake the cobwebs out of his ears and head. He shook, and his arms and legs cramped from his hold on the ceiling. So he let his feet go and swung down to the floor, bending his knees with the impact. His legs didn't want to hold him, but he got to the bed rather than land in an embarrassing mess on the floor.

"Pete?" Mary Jane hadn't moved from her spot by the door. Good girl.

Peter still worked on breathing, his elbows on his knees, and his forehead in his hands. He didn't trust himself yet to invite her over. His hands clenched into fists against his head, and he had to remind himself that it was a bad dream. A nightmare.

Mary Jane's apartment. He was in Mary Jane's apartment. He sat on her bed. Naked.

Okay. That helped. It reminded Peter of what he'd been doing before he'd fallen asleep. No screaming octo-scorpions in that. Just soft skin, warmth, pleasure. And Mary Jane. "Pete?" Mary Jane asked again, her voice soft, as though she were afraid to disturb him. Peter lifted his head to run a critical eye over the bare skin her sexy nightgown left visible. "Did I hurt you?" She'd been standing there… had he scared her?

"No, I know better than to mess with you when you're like that. You okay?"

Knew better because he had hurt her once, wrapped in a night terror. Left a bruise on her cheek, and her ribs. She'd had to yell at him to stop following her around like a lost puppy afterwards.

She stepped closer then, hand raised, but she didn't cross the whole distance. Still wary. "Shh. Don't think about it Pete. It didn't happen."

God, she knew his mind too well.

"I'm awake, I'm awake." Because he wanted the touch she offered.

She slid into his space as though his words had pulled her like a magnet. Mary Jane stroked his hair and pulled his head against her belly.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath of her salty skin. He could still smell the remnants of their earlier activities tucked away in the curls that lay hidden under the silky fabric his cheek rested against. His arms circled her waist almost of their own accord and he rubbed his cheek into the soft flesh of her belly. "Sorry if I woke you."

Her hands wandered over his head, down to his shoulders and up his arms. "You were still in the bed when I got up for the bathroom." Back down his arms to his shoulders and through his hair, her hands firm, soothing.

The touch of her hands drew a groan from his throat. Made him want to snuggle her closer. Kiss her belly through the night gown, her hip, her thigh. He rested his cheek against her again, tilting his head to look up at her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, turning his head to rest the other side of his face against her. "Nothing new."

Her hands drew lazy circles on his shoulders, then slid up his arms again. "All right." She shifted in his arms, curled over him and pressed her lips to the top of his head.

Peter bent his neck, so that he could catch her lips with his.

She chuckled into his lips, her hands cupping his face.

When she didn't pull away, and instead kissed him back, Peter tugged her into his lap so she didn't have to bend so awkwardly for him. He curled a hand around her neck, and stroked his thumb over her jaw. Her hair tickled his fingers and face. Her lithe body writhed against him and excited his pulse.

She broke the kiss, her fingers still on his face. "You know, I was going to go back to sleep."

He grinned, her fingers smooshing his cheeks together. "I'm not actually stopping you."

She snorted, and kissed him again, hungrily sucking at his tongue and lip.

Peter let his hands wander over her silken gown, grounding himself with the curve of her breasts in his palms, the slide of her thighs in his lap, her soft hips pressed against his aching member. He reveled in her gasp into his mouth, when he slid his fingers between her legs and into her folds of tender flesh. He stroked the delicate point of her clitoris, and then went deeper, tucking his first two fingers into her moist flesh. He carefully dragged his fingers in and out, using just the lightest drag of his sticky fingers to pull at her inner flesh.

Mary Jane gasped and melted against him, her hands clinging to his neck and shoulders, her breathing quickened with her excitement. Her mouth moved from his lips to his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, until she pressed her forehead against the round of his shoulder and whimpered, spreading her legs to his hand.

He tugged at her gown with his free hand, careful not to pull too hard, waiting for her to shift her hips out of the way so he could lift it over her head.

A groan squeezed out of his throat as he ran his eyes over her naked body, the way her back curved toward him, the jiggle of her breasts and their pert nipples. Peter bent his neck to run his tongue between her breasts; to nibble down to and suck on the point of her nipple, massaging her other breast with his free hand.

Her nails scraped over his back, and her chest heaved beneath his mouth.

He wanted to lay her down and make love to her; push his need in and in and let her warmth wrap around him. He ached, his penis pulsing to life where it sat pressed to her hips.

Mary Jane suddenly slid out of his lap, and he almost whimpered until he saw her kneel on the floor between his legs. She tilted a smile up at him, eyes full of mischief. Then she took his shaft in hand and closed her mouth over his erection like a freakin' lollipop.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, devouring the sight of her kneeling in front of him, the curve of both hips and shoulders, her hair spilling over her back, the bob of her head. He groaned, unable to think of anything but the sweet warmth wrapped around his cock, the press of her tongue against his head, the careful scrape of teeth as she slid her mouth down his length and pulled back up. Peter dropped his elbows onto his thighs, pressing hard against the urge to thrust into her mouth. He touched her head, stroking her tangle of hair, and the skin of her neck and shoulders.

Her hand slid down and she fingered his testicles.

He jumped at that touch, hissing at her gagged cough. She didn't stop, though. Her lips building the pressure of need in his waist, his breath sharp against his pounding heart. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her astride his hips and lock them together with his desire. He recalled (in some distant part of his brain that could still actually think) her complaint that he was too silent earlier that night. So he opened his mouth and let the pressure in his chest moan out of his throat. Let the sweep of her tongue elicit a whimper from his lips.

She paused and glanced up at him, a smile dancing in her eye. God she was so beautiful.

She brought him to the edge, and then she stopped.

"No," he pleaded. He was so close.

She stood and urged him further back on the bed. Oh, this was okay, then. He could do this.

She climbed on top of him, straddling him between her knees, hips swaying as she pushed his back to the mattress. Yes. Yes. Yes. This would be good too, he thought hazily, his hands sliding over her soft thighs instead of pulling her closer. He liked this position too.

"Pete," she breathed into his ear, "you have a choice."

Choice?

Maybe he heard her wrong, with his excited pulse pounding in his ear, distracted by her body pressed to him as she was.

"So," she said, while her hand traced idle lines on his chest, and she squeezed his hips between her knees, "we can go to sleep." Oh god, not yet please. "Or we can have a conversation."

Peter felt something fizzle in his brain. Conversation? Now?! "Conversation?" he said when he managed to override his hindbrain that only wanted one thing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just something that mildly irritated me today."

Peter blinked and shook his head, suddenly having to rack his brain over her words. "Ir-Irritated? You?" he said, voice squeaking with his confusion. His heart raced again, but this time with panic as he tried to find anything that suggested she was unhappy while he had Mary Jane pressed against the wall, or when she had given him that first delightful blowjob, and he had returned the favor before making love to her on the bed. Was she mad he'd fallen asleep? She had first, though.

"Mildly, irritated," she corrected him, leaning over him so that she could meet his gaze and drop a kiss his cheek.

He gestured at his face. "I hope you can see my confusion here?"

Mary Jane smiled, way too easily for someone who was supposed to be angry with him. Good grief, he didn't understand women. "Consider everything before this as laying the groundwork for our conversation."

Peter felt stupid as he only seemed to when talking to Mary Jane. "I don't understand."

She watched her fingers walk over his chest, her voice dropping to a sexy husk. "Are you worried about me kicking you out right now?"

There was that panic again, because no, he hadn't even thought of that. He couldn't quite speak, so he shook his head.

"See, groundwork." She glanced at his face before dropping a lingering kiss on his lips. Her legs shifted against him, and she her hips brushed against his aching member. A teasing slide of moist flesh against his straining cock. She sat up and back, her hands on his chest and stomach, where she liked to trace the lines of muscles he had there. Her breasts dipped and swelled with the press of her arms and his hands ached to touch the soft mounds. She lifted one of her pert little brows. "Of course, if you don't want to talk, we both know you can just take what you want."

The suggestion sent a hot blaze across his nerves. How could she even think he'd do something like that? When had he ever… He noticed the smile on her face, and realized she was trying – and succeeding – in getting a rise out of him. "That would be cheating, I take it," he said, trying to wrangle the flash of anger back into control.

She settled her weight on his thighs, the fingers of one hand playing in the thin carpet of hairs nestled beneath his standing erection. "It absolutely would."

"So… conversation?" Which would be difficult enough with her naked on top of him, much less with the drag of her fingers over the head of his cock or down his shaft and over his balls. He did want to just roll her over and…

"Three months."

When she didn't say anything else, and her hands stopped and sat on her thighs, he realized that she was waiting on a response from him.

"Otto?"

She shook her head, her hair sliding around her neck and shoulders, but she stroked him again, just the gentle glide of her finger tips. That stopped after a moment.

Oh god, this was the game. "D-Devil's Breath?"

"No," she murmured, and she touched him again, wrapping her hand around his shaft and squeezing.

Peter moaned, shifting his hips to push into her grip.

She stopped. "Stay still, Pete. We're still talking."

"God." Three months ago? "Fisk?" "Not even close," she told him, but she shifted against his thighs, and he couldn't help but be aware of the slide of her moist crevice over his thighs.

Would she let him touch her? Peter curled his fingers over her knees. What else? "The auction house?"

She didn't push his hands away, but she took her hands off him. "Spider-man is not the problem, Pete."

Oh. His throat closed on his next guess. "May?" he choked, unable to help the tears that stung her eyes.

She hissed, and leaned over him, her lips brushing his cheek. "Close. She knew, right?"

Peter curled his arm over her shoulder. "She knew that I'm Spider-man."

Mary Jane hummed, and poked his side, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Didn't I just say that Spider-man is not the problem? You were staying at F.E.A.S.T. three months ago? May knew?"

Peter slid his other hand over her waist, lifting his head to catch her lips again. Sating his hunger with the plunge of his tongue into her mouth.

Mary Jane pulled away instead, waiting.

"Yes," he choked. May knew everything about Peter, knew his horrible finances, and how he missed MJ. Knew he spent his free time swinging around the city, even.

She ran her fingers over his belly, almost tickling him, if he wasn't so focused on the soft flesh pressed against his thighs. "What happened to your apartment, Pete?"

Wait, he might have figured this out. "Are you mad because I didn't tell you I'd lost the apartment?"

"Irritated," she said again. "Not mad. Mad would be us having this conversation on the couch. But yeah. You were homeless, Pete. For three months. And I didn't know. I thought we were friends!" Her fists rested on her hips, and her frown sent a slight chill through him.

Peter froze, trying to scramble for something that would not end with him on the couch, or worse kicked out. He'd even take the blue balls if Mary Jane just wanted to sleep instead of… "I had Aunt May's house. I wasn't..."

She pressed her finger to his lips. Were those tears? "You shouldn't have had to stay at your Aunt's house because you didn't have anywhere else to go." She leaned forward again, replacing her finger with her lips. "I should have dragged you back to Manhattan, screw whatever you wanted. It was not good for you to stay there."

"I-"

She kissed him silent again. "Or made you stay at Aunt Anna's. Since you didn't want to be in Manhattan."

"That wasn't-"

She rubbed against him, brushing against his still straining cock. "Maybe I should have stayed at May's place with you instead."

"You did enough. I wasn't trying to be a burden."

She kissed him again, her tongue probing his mouth, her hands in his hair, on his chest, her thighs clenching over his waist. "I'd tell you if you're a bother. Don't think I wouldn't," she growled. She kissed his throat, his jaw. "Why didn't you say anything? Not when it first happened, and then not even after three months."

Peter stroked Mary Jane's thighs, his pulse pounding again. "We'd just reconnected, and you'd been working late that first night. You were still working, after I'd found out about the eviction. I thought..." He wallowed in his embarrassment all over again. "I almost called you, MJ. But it was just too soon after we'd started talking again."

"And?" She sat back again, her hand wrapped around his shaft. Oh. Oh, yes. She hovered over him, poised to let him in.

He whimpered when she didn't press down.

"And?" she prompted again.

Peter couldn't help the scrabble of his hands against her hips, but he didn't force her down. Cheating. No cheating. "The bomb. Everything fell apart. Oh god, yes."

Mary Jane had pushed him in as he talked and she flexed around him, the most intimate hug and kiss combined. She blinked down at him, her furrowed brows and teary eyes not the face he wanted her to be making while she shifted her hips above him.

"MJ, please," he pleaded, not sure if he was begging her to drop the subject or to start moving, or not to cry. Maybe all of it.

She didn't object when he moved, or when he lifted her up and then down his shaft.

"Don't do it again, Pete," she told him, pressing her hands into his stomach, lifting her hips. "If you get evicted, you tell me. Even if I can't take you in, right then. You don't have to face it alone. You are not alone."

She moved then. Really moved. Leaning over him, with her weight pressed into his stomach so she could bounce her hips and flex her thighs. Her vibrant green eyes slid close and she gasped when his hands squeezed her breasts, her thighs.

He thrust upwards, dropping his hands as the pressure built within him again. He clenched his stomach against her weight, no problem for his enhanced strength. Peter wanted to kiss her, but he wouldn't object to the wonderful view of her face tense in concentration, her lips pressed together, brows pressed together, eyes closed, mouth agape with her panting breath. He would make do, which in truth was an understatement. He couldn't tear his eyes away, honestly. He wanted to see the moonlight on her skin, the gentle sweep of her breasts as they bounced with her motions. See the slide of her hips over his erection, his skin moist from her excitement.

"Yes," he hissed, risking a stroke of his palm over her thighs, daring to let his fingers curl over her soft leg.

She moaned at him. Leaned down and kissed his lips again.

His vision exploded with white, and he slammed his hips against her, his hand cramping where he left it on her thigh as he refused to let it close. He gasped and groaned as the pressure released into her, his cock pulsing and aching with the release.

She bore down on him. "Oh," she gasped.

Peter dropped his hand, worried he'd been hurting her.

But her eyes focused on nothing, and sweat broke out on her skin. "Oh, I can feel that."

Then Peter had the distinct pleasure of watching Mary Jane shatter on top of him. Her sweet flesh clenched around him, her hips grinding on him as she gasped with her head tilted back and her hair sweeping over her shoulders.

He hadn't even realized she'd leaned down, her hands still pressed into his stomach. "Good," she said, inexplicably.

Until he realized she was taking the word she'd drawn out of him as a response to their conversation. "That..." he huffed as he tried to catch his breath. "Cheating."

She chuckled and lifted her hips so that his penis flopped wetly out of her. She grabbed the towel from where he'd dropped it on the floor and wiped at him, before reaching down and dabbing at herself.

God she looked so hot like that.

She smirked at him, as though reading his mind. Then she dropped the towel back on the floor and groaned as she slid back under the covers. Though she pulled them over him as well.

When his brain started working again, Peter pulled MJ and all her soft curves against him, one arm sliding under her neck. He stroked her cheek with his other hand, admiring the way the moonlight that filtered through the curtains played over her skin, flushed from their lovemaking. Her soft breasts squished up against him, and he could see the pink nub of a nipple almost flush where it lay against his skin. Looking down at her made him twitch and swell with desire again.

He met her green eyes as she arched a red brow at him, and her delicious lips curved upward. "I need to get some more sleep, Pete."

He took a deep breath, but that part of his body had a mind of its own. "I know," he told her. He smoothed a tangled lock of hair he'd noticed sticking up from her head. "So, would it be too forward to hope that this isn't going to be a one night thing?"

Even though she was the one who said she needed to go back to sleep, her eyes didn't droop at all. She tilted her head against his shoulder as she regarded him with serious eyes at odds with the smile. "Maybe. Would you like it to be a more than one night thing?"

Peter pulled her hip closer flush against him so that her leg slid over his waist. "Y-Yes. Yes. I'd like that very much," he said, his desperate need stuttering his words. Mary Jane was all Peter had left now. Even before he'd lost May, he would have said yes without a blink of hesitation. He'd taken her for granted, he'd realized. "MJ, I want this to be an every night thing. Or as many nights as we can, you know, considering our jobs. I mean," he stammered again as her smile slid off her face, "if that's what would make you happy. Cause it really would make me happy, just to make you happy. You know I'm still crazy about y-"

Her finger on his lips brought his rambling to a halt. Her fingers slid from his lips, along his cheek, catching in his hair. She pulled his head close and pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss that quickly morphed into something more exciting.

Peter could do nothing less than respond to the growing passion in her kiss. She needed to sleep though – she had work in the morning – so he resisted the urge to pull her astride him again or roll MJ onto her back so he could make love to her again.

The kiss cooled back into the press of lips (Peter couldn't consider it chaste with the heat that kiss had kindled in his loins) before she drew away.

Mary Jane smoothed his hair back and cuddled her cheek into his shoulder. "I guess we're at a bit of an impasse then."

Peter blinked, processing her words and coming up with the tingle in his lips and the burning need to slide into her. "Impasse? What-"

"Mmhmm." Her eyes slid closed, and her shoulders relaxed. "I just want to make you happy, too. So it looks like you're stuck with me."

A grin flashed across his face at her words. He couldn't help it. He rested his hand on her waist, stroking the soft flesh under his thumb. "I think I can live with that," he said to the top of her head. Peter closed his eyes, and took another measured breath against the burning heat that still pulsed in his waist.

"Oh!" Mary Jane jolted her head up. "I need to break up with Spider-man."

Peter frowned, his brows furrowing. He tried to puzzle what she meant. "What?" he opted for when he couldn't make sense of her words.

She nodded and scrunched her face. "So, apparently Miles has gotten it into his head that since I have Spidey's number then we absolutely must be dating!"

Peter covered his mouth, but the snicker exploded between his fingers anyways.

She scowled prettily up at him. "Oh, sure, yuk it up why don't you? You just _thwip thwip_ and away and leave me making excuses." Her eyes narrowed, but Peter didn't miss the smile that played at her lips. "Did you know that he thinks I broke up with you so that I can go out with you and now by flirting with you, I must be cheating with you."

Peter closed his eyes, trying to mash the laughter down for her sake. "That is ridiculous when you put it like that."

"Tell me about it!" she exclaimed. "I've been trying to twist my head around it since November."

Peter managed to get his chuckling under control, but a grin still spread across his face. "So how are we doing this? Do you need Spidey to call you during the move and leave you in tears? Or is it a peaceful break up, due to irreconcilable differences."

"Leave _me_ in tears?" She grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling. "Messy break up obviously, but Spidey's the one driven to tears because I caught him messing around with Black Cat behind my back."

"Agh," Peter scoffed. "Spidey wouldn't cheat on anyone. You can't go around ruining my rep like that."

She squirmed against him, her leg sliding up his waist and sending his heart into his throat as she pressed against him in ways that sent the blood coursing through his veins again. "I've seen that picture the Bugle published of Black Cat with her hands all over Spidey." Her fingers traced his muscles in imitation of that infamous picture.

He took her wrist and pulled her hand away from his skin. "If you keep that up, it'll take even longer before you go to sleep."

She struggled against his grip, and he let go rather than fight her. Her grin took a wicked tilt and she trailed her nails over his chest again, circling his nipple with her pinkie. Then she squirmed against him again.

He pinned her beneath him before he realized what he was doing, her errant hand above her head. "MJ," he said through the tight need in his throat. "I thought you were tired."

She shifted her hips beneath him rather than answer, and leaned up to kiss him.

Peter kissed her back, he couldn't help himself. He would take any chance for a kiss from Mary Jane. Especially with her pliant body so willingly beneath his, and her looking so helpless and willing. Vulnerable as she never was with her clothes on. Beautiful even with her thickest coat hiding her curves. "MJ..." he moaned at her.

"Shh." Mary Jane stroked his hair back, as she always seemed to when she thought he needed comforting. She slid a little more under him, settling her legs on either side of his waist. "Shhhh."

Peter couldn't resist her invitation, then. Just as he would take any chance for a kiss. He pressed her into the mattress as he slid inside her. The feel of her wrapped around him, warm and moist and oh so good had him shivering with the threads of his controls clenched in his quaking muscles.

Her teeth on his ear sent another shock through him and his control slipped through his fingers for a moment.

The bed creaked threateningly under them, and recalled Peter to himself.

She gasped when he sucked on her throat. "Pete!" she squeaked, pushing his face away. "Not there."

He licked the hickey he'd left in retribution for the nip on his ear, and went to work leaving another on her breast. He thought he'd accomplished two more when she she shifted beneath him again, and all he could think about was the connection between there bodies and the feel of her beneath him. His control slipped again as the tension in his body reached its peak.

He grabbed a fistful of sheets rather than any part of Mary Jane. He buried his face in the pillow next to her head, all too aware of the bite of her nails in his back and shoulders, and the hard press of her thighs around his waist. Her panting in his ears sent all new desperation into his rocking against her. A few strokes more and he tumbled over the edge, his vision exploded with stars, his muscles locked into endless spasms and she tightened around his cock as if she intended to draw his orgasm out as long as she could.

He loved it.

He loved her.

God, he loved Mary Jane so damn much that he didn't think he could last another six months without her smile brightening his day. Without her voice on the other end of the phone while he swung through the city. Without her encouragement to get out of the house and put on the costume. Without her telling him that everything would be okay and sometimes there could be no right answer to a hard decision.

He didn't relax, even though he lay limp over her. Peter slid his arms around her and held her to him, letting her pillow case catch the tears he hadn't meant to loose.

Her lips brushed his cheek, and he could hear the slide of her tongue as she tasted the tear she'd caught. Her arms tightened around him, and she pressed a hard kiss just under his eye. "I'm here for you Pete. I'll always be right here for you."

"I know." Peter squeezed his arms a little tighter around her, trying to be so careful not to go too far, and let himself hide his tears in her neck and shoulder. "I-I'm happy."

Mary Jane's cheek rested against his hair, smoothing his hair back with one hand while she clung to him with her other arm around his shoulders and even her legs around his waist. "Happy?" she said in a tight voice, and he realized his hair felt damp where her cheek rested."

"I love you, MJ," he said into her throat, voice choked with his tears. "You make me so happy." Peter lifted his head and kissed her, trying to pour all his gratitude and love into her through his mouth against her.

"I love you, too, Pete," she told him when he finally pulled away, She blinked tears away from her green eyes. "I always have, even when we didn't see each other. That hasn't changed, and it won't. I told you, right? You aren't alone anymore." Mary Jane's fingers brushed the remnants of his tears away. "Though I have to say, it's kinda a blow to my sense of self-esteem when my boyfriend starts crying after we have sex."

Peter snorted, though his mind latched onto the word 'boyfriend' and clung to it with all his considerable strength. "Sorry. It's not you."

"Better not be, Tiger." Her arms slid around his neck, and her fingers slid through his hair. "Even when it is me, it's still you."

Peter managed a laugh at that. "That's true." He slid off her, suddenly aware of the weight of his body on his arms and worried about how heavy he was on her.

Mary Jane sighed and curled against him. "I am going to sleep now, if you don't mind."

Peter tucked his hand behind his head. "Sleep well MJ." He closed his eyes, but they didn't stay that way. He found himself staring at the ceiling, until the echo of sirens reached his ears.

He thought MJ had fallen asleep, but she moaned and sniffed. Pat his chest and turned away from him. "Go save people, Spider-man."

Peter blinked at her, remembering when she used to grumble at him for leaving her alone in the bed. Pete leaned over Mary Jane ostensibly to kiss her cheek, but he also took the opportunity to check her expression.

Her cheeks lifted at his glance. She rolled back over to level a speaking look. "Go. I'll actually be able to sleep when you go." She kissed his cheek and soothed the sting from her words. "Go. Ward off your nightmares."

Peter smiled at her, and hopped off the bed. "I don't deserve you."

"You sure don't," she quipped back at him. "You're still here and I can't sleep."

"I'm working on it," Peter said, already. He didn't miss the hints of green through her hair and lashes that followed him as he put on his suit. His mask dangled from his hand as he paused by the bed and bent over to kiss her cheek again. "I'll see you later?"

"Mmhmm. I'll call you." Her beautiful green eyes finally slid close and her breath evened out.

Peter couldn't resist one more caress before he opened the bedroom window and leapt out into the night.

* * *

Author's End Notes:

I'm still amazed that this took so long from start to finish to complete these four chapters, and that's not mentioning getting this one chapter uploaded. I wanted to give it a review with a fresh pair of eyes before it went out.

The below notes were written while I was writing the whole fic, so apologies if I'm repeating myself in here.

So when MJ is meeting Peter at the restaurant at the end of the game, it kinda felt like it'd been a regular thing between them. So, I made it to become a little bit of a check up, with her making sure he was doing okay, as well as a good reminder that he wasn't alone, because Pete doesn't really have much besides casual acquaintances. Which would have been a natural progression of their relationship to lead up to that kiss at the end there.

I feel I should note that nearly anything after these 4 chapters. will be marked Alternative Universe, because I'm going to start speculating about the rest of this universe and eventually into sequel territory. I sooooo badly wanted to start my speculation in here. The desire was strong, but I resisted. However I will be retconning things that are not explicitly mentioned here, but also not not mentioned? As far as my brain is concerned this is the end of TULE part 1, but I'm not creating another series for the rest.


End file.
